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COMIC SKETCHES; 



THE COMEDIAN HIS OWN MANAGER. 

Written and selected 
FOR THE BENEFIT OF PERFORMERS 



ENGLAND, 



IRELAND, 

INSCRIBED TO 



SCOTLAND, and 
AMERICA. 



THE PERFORMERS IN GENERAL, 

BY 

CHARLES LEE LEWES, Comedian, 

h 

THE WHOLE FORMING MATTER SUFFICIENT FOR 

TWO EVENINGS' ENTERTAINMENT; 

ORIGINALLY INTENDED FOR THE EAST INDIES, 

AND AS DELIVERED BY HIM, WITHOUT AN APPARATUS, 

IN MANY PARTS OF THE THREE KINGDOMS, 

WITH DISTINGUISHED PATRONAGE 



LONDON: — -7~ 

PRINTED FOR H. D. SYMONDS, NO. 20, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 

1804. 



TrK 2r0 



Printed hy Byt and Law, St. John's Square, Cltrhenwtlt. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

JLJiographical Sketch of Charles Lee Lewes - xi 

Introduction ------- xxvii 

To Performers in general ----- xxviii 

Address to the Ladies and Gentlemen, reiidents in 

Calcutta at the Period 1788 - xxxi 

Eloquence abused ------ 1 

Boys reading at school ----- % 

Bad reading of news-papers - 3 

Auk ward mode of address ----- 4 

Reading like singing recitative - 5 

Bathologists ------- ibid. 

Propriety of emphasis exemplified ... 7 

Punctuation, its power and abuse 10 

""Vowels frequently useless in the English 13 

Observations on spelling ----- i6. 

Words of the same pronunciation, but of a different 

meaning ---.----14? 

Partiality of the English to Jacks - - - - ib. 

:■ Contemptuous treatment of the letter H - - 16 

- Mode of teaching by an Irish schoolmaster - - 18 

Word-clippers described 22 
\ 2 



IV CONTENTS. 

Page 
Lispers, stammerers, and snufflers described - - 23 
Impropriety of cadence in speaking exemplified, in 
a story relative to the performance of thunder and 
lightning, in the Rehearsal •* - - 25 

Epithets for drunkenness 26 

The tone of voice should vary with the subject - 2 

Northumberland burr in speaking exemplified 30 

A learned disquisition between a Squire, an Excise- 
man, an Apothecary, a Lawyer, and a Curate, 
upon a hedge-hog ------ 31 

The deportment of the body should correspond with 

the modulation of the voice in speaking - - 32 
Corporeal expression described of a Frenchman, 

Dutchman, and Spaniard ----- 34 

Unnatural and ridiculous gesticulation exemplified in 
the characters of a Maiden Lady and her three 
antiquated Maid Servants ----- 35 

. A sharp-set genius for dramatic fame, described in 

the story of Garrick and the Taylor - - - 39 
Ridiculous Story-Tellers described - - - - 43 

The good Story-Teller described 46 

A remarkable story respecting painting, as told by 

Hogarth of himself and a gentleman of fortune - ib. 
Garrick and Lord Orrery's remarkable conversation 

respecting the celebrated Mossop, the Tragedian - 49 
Utterance of public speakers how spoiled, perverted, 

and enervated -------67 

Effeminate conversation exemplified in the persons of 
Billy Gentle, Jacky Diddle, Sir Simon Simper, 
and LorcT Softly ------ 68 



I 



CONTENTS. V 

Page 
Parents and Tutors exhorted to cultivate the manly 

energies of Roman eloquence - - - 70 

Spelling taught improperly instanced in a school- 
mistress teaching her infant scholar to spell the 
word Birmingham - - - - - - 72 

Anecdote of a common Sailor teaching Geography - ib. 
Nurses, &c. should be careful never to speak im- 
properly to or before children committed to their 
care - - - - - - - - ib. 

Fashion in words and phrases exemplified 73 

The character of a Beau displayed in his own de- 
scription of a Tete-a-Tete - - - - - 7 4 

The English language compared with those of the 
Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Spanish, Italian, and 

French - 76 

Whimsicalities in the English language - 77 
The opinions of a Quack Doctor and a Lawyer re- 
specting a Petit-Maitre ----- 78 
The powers of Music to quiet the crying of Infants, 
encrease the zest of an Englishman for his dinneV, 
and accelerating the business of a Taylor's work- 
shop _- - 80 

Musical echo of Killarney described by Darjptogan 82 
Butchers of blank verse described 83 

A Tragedy Bell-Wether - - - - ' - 85 

A Tragedy Bantam-Cock ----- 86 
A curious scene of Gossipping, upon some theological 

and metaphysical topics ----- 87 
Thunder and Lightning Manufacturers 92 

An important secret in Pharmacy 94 

a3 



Yl CONTENTS. 

Page 
A Veterinary story of a Country Farrier - - - 9tr 

Turkey^pout actors 99 

Nomenclators described - - - - - ib. 

The author's account of a strolling company in Kent, 
of which he and Quick were two of the per- 
formers - - - - - - - -100 

A striking actor described ----- 104 

Boxing reproved, with a story respecting the dis- 
graceful defeat of a pugilist - 105 
A Quack Doctor's panegyric upon his own wonderful 

talents - - - 109 

Tragedy Chaunter Pipers described • - 114 

Men of genius have now no patrons • - 115 

The celebrated Tooth and Pinion scheme for teaching 

arts and sciences by intuition - - - - 117 

The Technicatholicautomatopantoppidon, or the 
Clock- Work Universal School-Master, a machine 
for teaching all branches of learning - - - 118 
The contemptuous treatment of an Author by a gen- 
tleman of fashion - - - - - -120 

New strokes of acting exemplified, in a story of a 

Scotchman and a Performer - 131 

Plays performed by men only, at Camberwell, a 

village near London ------ 132 

Veteran performers sometimes deserve punishment 

for neglect of duty - - - - - -133 

Anecdote of a Bombardier performing the Earl of 

Richmond at Norwich 134 

The abuse of the word Honour - - - 135 

Gamblers' disputes upon their honour - - - ib 



CONTENTS, Vll 

Page 
London possesses more honour than any other city in 

the world - 136 

The Turks have no idea of honour - ib. 

Killing in defence of honour only practiced where 

the Gospel is taught ------ ib. 

' The honour of Magrah Monaghan, a story - - 137 
The fool played as often off as on the stage - - 139 
The Clergyman's mistake in asking the prayers of 

his congregation for a man going to sea - - 140 
A Performer mistaking his part in All for Love - 141 

The same Performer's giving out the play and farce ib. 
Debates on the state of the nation in a political club, 
consisting of a Baker, a Butcher, a Barber, a 
Taylor, a Grocer, an Inn-keeper, a Perfumer, 
and a Chelsea Penfioner - - - - 14- 

The absurdity of a provincialist professing public 

speaking - - - - - - - - 146 

A whimsical specimen of Scotch-English Oratory - 147 
The Oratory of a Cockney displayed - - - 149 
A Cambrian asking, in Cranbourn-Alley, for a pair 

of shoes for his daughter - - - - - 151 

West-country dialect exemplified in a Collier's whim- 
sical description of a church - 152 
The anatomy of phantoms - - - - - 153 

Genius neglected, a story - - - - 154 

appointed director of a milk office - - 158 

Zeuxis died of a fit of laughter caused by looking at 

his painting of an old woman - 1 59 

Persons laughing at their own conceits reproved - ib. 
Giggling, smiling, t'ttering, grinning, risible gentry 
a 4 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Page 
instanced in their behaviour to a man of genuine 

wit and humour -----_ ^qq 
Some-body, no-body, any-body, and every-body, 

how treated ---_-__ igi 

Devilish expressions, their variety instanced - - 162 

Shorteners of words ------ 153 

Extenders of words ib. 

Anecdote orators described - - - - 164 

Anecdote of an Election Barber ib. 

— of a Town Cryer * 165 

Prolixity exposed - - - - - - ib. 

Whatever Nature produces Art can embellish * 167 

A fly observer ------- %^q 

A wristband-puller - - - - - - ib. 

A pocket diver ------- ib. 

An itinerant player acting with one arm described - it, 

The same actor's singularity off the stage - - T69 

Mutes, Babblers, &c. described - - - - 170 

Dictionary Word-Grubbers, an anecdote concerning 

one of them - 171 

The Apothecary and Barber compared - 172 
Singular talents possessed by many who never could 

attain any character for eminent abilities - - 174 

Mimics, several described - - - - - 175 

Imitators of Punch - - - - - ib. 

the Bassoon - - - - - ib. 

Caterwauling of Cats - ib. 

Cries of London - 176 

Innocent means of promoting cheerfulness applaud- 
ed - . - 17* 



CONTENTS. IX 

Page 

News-papers justly termed a microcosm - 179 

their use and description ... 18Q 

A whimsical advertisement - 181 

Independency of temper, its effects - 183 

Anecdote of Dick Shatterbrain - 184 
Vanity of Democritus who censured the vanity of 

all the world 185 

Whimsical acts and opinions of celebrated characters ib. 

Abuse of the word Friend - - - - - 186 

Studying the vocabulary of affectation exemplified ib. 

The actor spurred in the wrong place - 188 

Foote's ridiculous performance of Tragedy - - 189 

Tragedy tea-pot, a sketch - - - - - 191 

Mr. Mossop's acting censured - ib. 

Garrick's story of a one-handed actor - 192 

A story of the celebrated George Alexander Steevens ib. 



a 5 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 



CHARLES LEE LEWES. 



JL here is a certain jealousy in the human 
mind, which impels it to view with indifference, 
and sometimes with contempt, the perform- 
ances and the actions of cotemporary genius. 
It is seldom riiat we discover a man to he 
either learned,, or pious,, or ingenious, until 
death has removed him from the sphere of 
competition; and theu, when all are unani- 
mous in admiration of his excellencies, none 
can tell hozc those excellencies were attained, 
or in ichat manner they were exerted. We 
suffer the effusions of wit, the corruscations 
of genius, and the flashes of convivial hilarity, 



Xll 

which proceed from men of acknowledged emi- 
nence, to escape us daily, without noting, them 
down, or without even seriously committing 
them to memory ; and yet when that individual 
has ceased to breathe, and when the events of his 
life become an object of curiosity to the world, 
we endeavour in vain to recall those quotidian 
beauties, which vanity, envy, or negligence 
impelled us at the time to disregard. 

The truth of these observations was never 
more fully established than in the object of 
the present memoir. He was a man who 
had, for a series of years, been a popular and 
admired comedian ; who had introduced al- 
most a new species of amusement into our 
provincial towns ; who had mingled with all 
the eminent wits of his time, and who him- 
self most assuredly possessed no inconsider- 
able share of that fascinating quality. Yet, 
all we now know of him amounts to little 
more than a bare collection of dates, with a 
few of those occurrences of his life, which 
industry and application have been successful 
in collecting. These, however, scanty as they 
are, shall be laid before the public, and they 



Xlll 

will, perhaps, be found sufficient to elucidate at 
least the more prominent traits of his character. 

Charles Lee Lewes, like most other of 
the children of genius, could boast no splendid 
pedigree, or pomp of heraldry; his father 
was a hosier, who resided during many years 
in Bond-street, and who likewise officiated in 
the capacity of a letter-carrier in the Post- 
office. In this last humble duty, young Lewes 
frequently assisted him; and his constitutional 
liveliness and activity soon occasioned him to 
be noticed by various persons of distinction in 
the neighbourhood. This too was an acqui- 
sition, which afterwards proved of essential ser- 
vice to him ; for those early patrons of his youth 
extended their countenance towards him after 
his appearance upon the stage. 

The servile drudgery of business was a thing 
that he could never cordially enter into ; an 
antipathy which probably arose at first from 
his early partiality for theatrical amusements. 
This inclination towards the stage was con- 
siderably increased by the applauses which 
he received, while he belonged to a spouting 
club ; one of those pests of the metropolis^ 



XIV 

those nurseries of vice, which the interests of 
morality require should be abolished. Having, 
like most other infatuated young men, been 
strongly impressed with the idea of his own 
excellence, he adopted the resolution of join- 
ing himself to a strolling company; a reso- 
lution which is but too frequently the con- 
sequence of becoming members of those so- 
cieties. But those who rashly act thus, have 
little apprehension of the complicated evils 
which they entail upon themselves ; they view 
the profession of an actor through the delusive 
medium of its exterior appearance ; they think 
of nothing but applauses, patronage, and 
wealth, without once giving a moment's re- 
flection on the vicissitudes they incur, and the 
privations they are about to sustain. It is 
not until they have felt the evils of hunger, 
anxiety, ceaseless labour, general contempt 
wherever they go, persecution from petty ma- 
gistrates, and worse persecution from more 
petty managers, that they reluctantly confess 
the wretchedness of the life they have adopted, 
and execrate the moment when they first at- 
tempted to pourtray the excellencies of scenic 



XV 

exhibition. It is no objection to this general 
picture, to revert to the well-earned fame and 
wealth of a Kemble, a Siddons, a Bannister, 
&c. there may be -a few who emerge from the 
thorny path of itinerant acting; but the ma- 
jority tread it, painfully tread it, all their 
lives; and even those who do flourish beneath 
the genial approbation of a London audience, 
would be willing to confess, that their present 
ease barely repays the former toil and mi- 
sery. 

Mr. Lee Lewes however, after experiencing 
for a few years the vicissitudes of this life, 
entered into an engagement v\ ith the Manager 
of Covent Garden Theatre, where he was 
principally employed as a Harlequin, but pos- 
sessing a good figure,, he frequently performed 
trifling parts in plays, such as Burgundy in King 
Lear, &c. 8cc. Upon the death of M. Dyer, 
he immediately succeeded to most of the parts 
played by that actor; and here probably he 
might have remained, when accident, which 
frequently elicits those sparks of genius, which 
would otherwise have remained dormant, 
proved of essential advantage to our young 



XVI 

candidate for theatrical fame ; and not only 
rendered him an object of considerable im- 
portance to the Manager, but firmly esta- 
blished him in the favour and opinion of the 
public. 

When Dr. Goldsmith's excellent comedy of 
u She Stoops to Conquer/' was put into re- 
hearsal, a considerable difficulty occurred in 
casting the characters ; for Colman, and several 
other supposed competent judges, decidedly 
predicted its failure. In consequence of this, 
some of the popular actors were unwilling to 
appear in it, impressed as they were with an 
idea, that this play would inevitably experience 
damnation. It has indeed been confidently 
said, that the part of Young Marlow was in- 
tended for Mr. Smith, but that he absolutely 
refused to play this character. It is not here 
the place to animadvert upon this subject; or 
else, much might be said on the manifest im- 
propriety of it ; and authors labour indeed 
under a lamentable tyranny, if actors are al- 
lowed to refuse characters, drawn perhaps ex- 
pressly for them, merely because they or 
their friends think the play will not succeed! 



XVI 1 



Whether however such was the case or not, 
Dr. Goldsmith entrusted ttie performance of 
this character to Lee Lewes ; and to his suc- 
cess in it may be ascribed all his future emi- 
nence and celebrity. The Doctor himself was 
so thoroughly satisfied with his performance of 
it, that he wrote him the following Epilogue, 
which he spoke in the character of Harlequin 
at his benefit. 

" Hold, Prompter, hold ! a word before your non- 



sence 



I'd speak a word or two two ease my conscience 5 
My pride forbids it ever should be said 
My heels eclips'd the honours of my head ; 
That I found humour in a pye-ball'd vest, 
Or ever thought that jumping was a jest. 

[Takes off his mask. 
Whence and what art thou, visionary birth ? 
Nature disowns, and Reason scorns thy mirth. 
In thy black aspect every passion sleeps, 
The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps 5 
How hast thou rill'd the scene with all thy brood 
Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursu'd ! 
Whose inns and outs no ray of sense discloses 5 
Whose only plot it is to break our noses 3 



XV111 

Whilst from below the trap -door demons rise, 
And from above the dangling deities. 
And shall I mix in this unhallow'd crew ? 
May rosin'd lightning blast me if I do ! 
No — I will act j I'll vindicate the Stage $ 
Shakespeare himself shall feel my tragic rage. 
Off! off! vile trappings ! a new passion reigns ! 
The mad'ning monarch revels in my veins ! 
Oh ! for a Richard's voice to catch the theme !— 
Give me another ! bind up my wounds !— 

Soft — 'twas but a dream !— 
Aye, 'twas but a dream, for nonv there's no retreating j 
If J cease Harlequin I cease f t ">*n eating *. 
'Twas thus that ,/Esop's stag, a creature blameless, 
Yet something vain, like one that shall be nameless f 5 
Once on the margin of a founuin stood, 
And cavill'd at his image ir> the £ cd : 
€ The deuce confound,' he cries, * these drum-stick 

shanks ! 
■ They neither have my gratitude nor thanks : 

* From this line it would appear, that Lee Lewes him- 
self considered his abilities as of a very small extent, and that 
he did not aspire to any thing very eminent. 

t It may be shrewdly suspected, that our Author here 
alludes rather strongly to the well-known vanity of David 
Garrick, who was at that time in the zenith of his popu- 
larity. 



XIX 

* They're perfectly disgraceful ! strike me dead ! 

c But for a head ! — yes, yes, I have a head. w 

1 How piercing is that eye ! how sleek that brow ! 

c My horns ! — I'm told horns are the fashion now V 

Whilst thus he spoke, astonish'd to his view, 

Near and more near the hounds and huntsmen drew. 

Hoicks ! hark forward ! came thund'ring from behind j 

He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind ; 

He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways 5 

He starts, he pants, he fakes the circling maze. 

At length his silly head, so prizM before, 

Is taught his former folly to deplore ; 

Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free, 

And at one bound he saves himself— like me." 

[Taking a jump through the stage ^door, 

In April, 1776, Woodward died, which 
opened another road to preferment for our 
hero. Dashwood, in Know your' own Mind, 
was originally intended for Woodward, but it 
now fell to Lee Lewes, and the play had a 
considerable run. Unfortunately he was not 
proof against the inroads of vanity, and car- 
ried away by the strong tide of success which 
now ensued, he fancied himself in possession 
of every superior accomplishment. He fed 
his own importance to a degree, which neither 



XX 

prudence could justify, nor experience corro- 
borate. From hence a difference arose be- 
tween him and the Manager ; in consequence 
of which, he seceded from the Theatre. In 
1783, however, he obtained a situation at 
Drury-lane; but his popularity being on the 
decline, his stay there was but of short duration. 
About this period John Palmer opened the 
Royalty Theatre, and Lee Lewes assisted him 
by delivering Steevens' Lecture on Heads, 
altered by his friend Pilon. But the whole of 
this scheme was soon abandoned, and our 
hero then went with his family to the East 
Indies, with the intent of performing there 
those Sketches, which form the subject of the 
present work. In this, however, he was com- 
pletely disappointed ; for, upon his arrival at 
Calcutta, the Commander in Chief (Lord Corn- 
wallis) forbad him to commence any represen- 
tations, but at the same time, to alleviate the 
pecuniary distress, which he knew this inter- 
diction would occasion, he very generously 
made him a present of a handsome sum of 
money. The whole of this circumstance is 
detailed by Lee Lewes himself in the following 



XXI 

pages; where also will be found the* letters 
that passed between him and the Governor's 
Secretary, which are now first printed from 
the originals in the possession of the pub- 
lisher of this volume. 

Finding that he could not put his plan in 
execution, he returned to England, and joined 
Messrs. John and Robert Palmer, and the late 
Mr Wilson, in a theatrical tour through Scot- 
land. He also performed in Dublin, and oc- 
casionally in most of the principal theatres in 
England. 

During the years 1792 and 1793, he took 
a tolerably extensive range of characters at the 
Edinburgh Theatre; and we find him thus 
mentioned in an occasional prologue, which 
Palmer spoke at the Assembly Rooms in 
Thistle St. Edinburgh, to an entertainment 
called a Comic Salmagundi^ written by An- 
thony Pasquin : 

" Two cooks within — Lee Lewes and my brother. 
Like chiefs, are labVing to outvie each other $ 
Dish upon dish those purveyors have got, 
To serve, like Doily's beef-steaks, hot and hot $ 



• • 



XX11 



With each a bonne boucbe, by the Muses grac'd, 
To gratify — they cannot mend your taste. 
Instead of tarts, with salutary zest, 
They'll give you epigram and harmless jest."** 

The principal characters he performed while 
at Edinburgh in 1793, were Goldfinch in the 
" Road to Ruin/' Old Manley, Polonius, 
Sir Anthony Absolute, in the Rivals, &c. &c. 
This year also he became joint Manager of the 
Dundee Theatre, with the Palmers and Wil- 
son, where he played Horatio in Hamlet, 
while the elder Palmer personified the Royal 
Dane. 

On the death of his friend Palmer, he again 
endeavoured to obtain an engagement in Lon- 
don, but his application failed; for to every 
one, except himself, was the decay of his 
powers strikingly obvious. 

It was the constant weakness of this per- 
former to over-rate, beyond all conception, his 
own abilities. It is pretty generally known, that 
at a time w hen his embarrassments were exces- 
sive, owing to his great imprudence, which he 
could never overcome, he absolutely rejected 




XX111 



a very handsome and liberal offer from Mr. 
Harris, because he thought that nothing less 
than the highest salary in the theatre was com- 
mensurate to his vast abilities. — It is always 
to be regretted, when we behold real talent 
and abilities sullied by an overweening pride 
or vanity; but how much more is it cul- 
pable and disgusting, w hen we behold very mo- 
derate acquisitions so strongly mingled with the 
same base alloy. 

We come now to his last appearance on a 
public stage. This event took place at Covent 
Garden Theatre on the 24th of June, 1803, 
for his own benefit, having obtained the use of 
the house from Mr. Harris, and the gratuitous 
services of several distinguished performers. 
But he lived only a few weeks to enjoy 
the fruits of this liberal assistance. On the 
23d of July, having passed the preceding 
evening, apparently in good health, with some 
intimate friends, he w as found dead in his bed. 
Thus he closed his mortal career in the sixty- 
third year of his age ! He was buried at Pen- 
tonville, his funeral being attended only by a 
few of his relatives. 



# ■ 



XXIV 

It was not until Mr. Lewis, the present 
eminent comedian of Covent Garden Theatre, 
was engaged at that house, that our hero made 
that addition to his sirname, which distin- 
guishes the two performers. He was chris- 
tened Charles Lee Lewes, the name of Lee 
being given to him at the request of one of his 
godfathers, Mr. Lee, a relative of the Earl of 
Litchfield. 

Mr. Lee Lewes was three times married. 
By his first wife, whose name was Hussey, 
he had several children, of whom two daughters 
are still living. The eldest was married to 
Wilson the actor ; but the youngest continued 
with her father. The mother, who had a little 
patrimony of her own, well knowing the im- 
prudent habits of her husband, left it to her 
children in such a manner, as that he could 
have no controul over it. His second wife 
was the daughter of a respectable innkeeper at 
Liverpool, named Rigley. By this lady also 
he had several children. There are two sons 
alive, who inherit from their mother a very con- 
siderable property. Of the name, family, and 
circumstances of his third wife, the writer of 



XXV 

tiiis memoir has not been able to obtain any 
satisfactory intelligence; they must therefore 
remain in obscurity unless some more fortunate 
researches should bring them to light. 

Such is the scanty intelligence, which in- 
dustry has been enabled to collect, relative to 
the life of this once celebrated man. It is to 
be regretted that it is not more ample ; but, 
perhaps, the enquiries of others, may yet re- 
veal various circumstances respecting him, 
tending to display his character more fully, and 
to unfold more at large his progressive exertions 
in his professional department. 

His manners were lively and interesting; 
and in no company, where he was, could the 
guests complain of dulness. Indeed it may 
be very fairly presumed, that he possessed 
great constitutional vivaciousness ; for the 
Sketches which form the subject of the pre- 
sent volume, and which he delivered himself, 
required no inconsiderable share of humour to 
procure the n that applause which they every 
where met with. It is one of those arduous 
tasks which conscious genius alone can under- 
take, to furnish amusement to a company 
b 



XXVI 

solely by our own exertions ; and this task, ft 
appears, Mr. Lee Lewes performed with great 
eclat to himself. The exertion must have 
been great, and the habitual liveliness of the 
individual excessive, to catch with spirit every 
minute shade and almost evanescent colouring 
on which the whole effect of a thing some- 
times depends. 

As a writer, little can be said of him. But 
he appears to great advantage in the following 
work. None but those who have attempted 
it, can properly appreciate the difficulty of 
writing a facetious tale, so as to lose none of 
its volatile excellence. It would be a much 
easier task to compose an Essay like the 
Rambler, a Biography, or a Critical Disser- 
tation, (supposing the writer to be previously 
acquainted with the rules of his art,) than to 
narrate with characteristic and effective airiness 
and levity, such light and minute trifles as are 
many of those which compose the following 
pages ; and none, I believe, will be found 
who, after perusing them, will be willing to 
deny to Lee Lewes, the merit of having hit 
them off with great vigour and facility. 



INTRODUCTION 



" What k more fitting than that Folly should be 
the trumpeter of her own fame, and dance after her 
own pipe V ' * E r a s m us. 

In this age of folly and fashion, it is no wonder 
that I, who have been all my life the devotee 
of folly, should think myself entitled to per- 
form a principal character in one of her temples, 
and thus be one of her humble instruments of 
public entertainment. I have ranged over the 
North, the South, the West, and have even 
visited the East, where, but for the folly of 
my plan, I might have returned a Nabob, But 
I do not repine. The approbation of the 
public is now all the wealth I seek ; and if I 
have another wish, it is, that I may never 
want the means or ability to attain this, the 
sole object of my ambition. 

b2 



TO 

PERFORMERS IN GENERAL 



Gentlemen, 

THE following matter is neces- 
sarily arranged as a series of miscellaneous' 
subjects, and not as a regular system. The 
person intending to recite them as an enter- 
tainment, can therefore select and arrange them 
according to his own pleasure, and agreeably 
to the nature of the performance he thinks 
may best suit his own talents, and the taste of 
his expected auditors. 

I must allow that an apparatus will consi- 
derably assist the performance. But this must 
be left to the choice or convenience of the 
actor. 

You will, Gentlemen, find in this work, 
some subjects you may have heard from that 



XXIX 

very ingenious gentleman, Mr. Collins. Seeing 
the possibility so completely and successfully 
embraced in the entertainment of the Brush, 
suggested to me, I must confess, the idea of 
forming myself a performance that might be 
given without an apparatus., 

And here candour must allow, that Mr. 
Collins, in his original matter, I mean his songs, 
has displayed a considerable degree of genius 
and judgement. His old stories were well 
brushed up, and well told. But Mr. Collins 
has too much modesty to claim any merit a c 
such stories being original. He, however, 
deserves the praise of having grafted them 
like an experienced theatrical gardener, on his 
own stock. Nor is he to be reminded, for 
he must know, and we all know who can 
remember the period, that they have, thirty- 
years ago, culled the muscle of many of us 
barn-luminating, county-brushing, hoof-beat- 
ing heroes after fame. Mr. Collins will, there- 
fore, not be surprised by seeing, in the follow- 
ing work, some of them told or grafted in my 
way. 

You are, Gentlemen, too well acquainted 
B3 



XXX 



with the selfishness, ignorance, and tyranny of 
most country managers; that they often pre- 
clude from their companies, men of real 
talents and experience, from their not being 
content as managers, without being also, 
Gnatho like, omnium scenarumhomo, and strut- 
ting mira socci ! grandesque cothurni ! 

In a word, the Comic Sketches, I flatter 
myself, will relieve you when oppressed by 
such fungus excrescencies of stage royalty. 



ADDRESS 

TO THE 

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, 

Residents in Calcutta, at the Period 1788. 



Ladies and Gentlemen, 

WHEN my fortunes led me into 
Asia for the purpose of exercising my pro- 
fessional talents, the following unexpected in- 
terdiction introduced me to your most kind 
and friendly protection. I arrived in Calcutta 
on the 26th Jiuy, 1788; on the 28th, I re- 
ceived the following polite note from Mr. 
Hay, Secretary to the Governor General. 

" Mr. Hay presents his compliments to 
Mr. Lewis, and begs the favour of his atten- 
dance at the Council House to-morrow morn- 



XXXll 

ing at 9 o clock, or at any other hour that may 
be more convenient to him." 
" Monday, 28th July, 1788/' 

I attended, when Mr. Hay, in the tenderest 
manner, and with real concern, .signified to 
me, that I must not give any public perform- 
ance in the settlement, and that I must return 
to Europe in the same ship I came out in. 
To which I bowed my assent ; and although a 
bond on my part was necessary and usual on 
such occasions, Mr. Hay most politely dis- 
pensed with that part of the ceremony, and 
told me, my promise was sufficient. In a few 
days after, my good friend, the late Major 
Skelly, delivered a memorial from me to 
Lord Cornwallis, to which I received the an- 
nexed answer. 

u Government House, 
" Sir, Aug. 9, 1788. 

" Lord Cornwallis has received your 
memorial; and in answer to it, his Lordship 
has directed me to say, that it gives him great 
concern to disappoint your hopes of accom- 
plishing the objects of your voyage to this 



\xxni 

country ; but as you have come to India with- 
out leave from the Court of Directors, the 
duty of his station obliges him to forbid your 
making any public professional exhibition 
whatever in this settlement. His Lordship 
has desired me to add, that he feels exceedingly 
for the distress which you must suffer, from the 
step which you have so imprudently taken, and 
lie requests that you will accept of the en- 
closed draft upon his Agent for one thousand 
Rupees, to relieve, in some degree, the exi- 
gencies of your present situation. 

" I am, Sir, 
u Your most obedient and 

" humble Servant, 

" HENRY HALDANE, 
" Priv. Sec. to the Governor 
General." 
Mr. Charles Lee Lewes* 

To this I replied, 

* Sir, 

" I am this moment' honoured with 
your letter, conveying to me my Lord Cornwal- 



XXXIV 

iis's orders that 1 should not make any public pro- 
fessional exhibition whatever in the settlement, 
to which you will be pleased to signify my 
submission. 

iC I have, at the same time, received a draft 
on his Lordship's Agent for Sa. Rs. 1000, for 
which I request, through you, Sir, to offer 
my humble and most hearty acknowledge- 
ments. 

" I have the honour to be, with respect, 
« Sir, 
" Your most obedient 

u and most humble Servant/' 

This was a severe stroke to me, attributable 
only to myself; but I very soon forgot to lament 
my own personal inconvenience, in the never- 
ceasing kindness of the whole settlement, and 
other private considerations of the Governor 
General, independent of his noble present of 
one thousand Rupees. And for which, per- 
mit me, Ladies and Gentlemen, to assure you, 
and the Noble Marquis, that, however lime 
may weaken my frame, it can never lessen 
the vigour of my gratitude, 



XXXV 



Some of the stories in the following pages, 
your partiality has inclined me to think, in 
some degree, contributed to enliven your hos- 
pitable and festive circles. My story of Lord 
Orrery and Garrick, has, I see, been most 
terribly mutilated in some magazines. I call it 
my story ; for though the late Mr. Henderson 
made a most excellent oral composition of it, 
it never was committed to print before, as in 
the annexed pages. 

If the following whimsies can afford any 
entertainment in the closet, give me leave, 
Ladies and Gentlemen, in this shape to intro- 
duce myself ; and if those of my friends who 
may still remain in Calcutta, will be so indul- 
gent as to take me by the hand in this manner, 
I shall, in idea, once more revisit the delightful 
and happy regions of Bengal. 

I have the honour to remain, 

Ladies and Gentlemen, 
\ouy most obliged, 

and obedient Servant, 

CHARLES LEE LEWIS 



COMIC SKETCHES, &c. 

FIRST PART. 



Of all the human faculties, none is more 
useful, admirable, and excellent, than speech. 
How noble is it, therefore, to exert, in a 
superior style, that faculty which is the glory 
of our nature, and which was given to us 
for the efTential service of ourselves and so* 
ciety ! Wherever the liberal sciences have 
been cherished, the art of speaking has al- 
ways been cultivated with peculiar care, en- 
couraged with honours the moft distinguished, 
and rewarded with emoluments the molt con. 
siderable. 

Reviewing the state of eloquence in thes 
kingdoms, we find this eminent perfection 
of our nature in a rapid state of decline, 
from neglecting to cultivate the voice in our 
early years. 

B 



How unfavourably mull British eloquence 
appear, and how far distant from improvement 
must it be found, by those who recollect the 
manner in which our youth are taught to 
read ! 

In moral books, many words that should 
never be spoken but with the most respectful 
tone of voice and demeanour, are, by the old 
women of our village, and even our city 
seminaries, suffered to be banged, thumbed, 
and knocked about, six or seven times a day, 
without the least reverence or regard. 

One little boy begins thus, in a bible with 
torn leaves and broken cover — " And Har- 
bonah — one of the king's chamberlains— said 
to the king — behold also the gallows — fifty 
cubits high — which Haman had made for 
Mordecai — standing in the house of Haman — 
Then the king said — hang him thereon *." 

Another follows, in this manner : " Verse 
the tenth — So they hanged — Haman — on the — 
gallows — that he — had prepared — for Mor- 
decai — then was — the — king's wrath pacified." 

* Esther, chap. vii. ver; 9 and io« 



3 

Thus poor Mordecai and Hainan — Haman 
and Mordecai, are hummed and hawed, and 
jumbled together with as littlp propriety of 
accent or emphasis as if hapless Haman was 
but just executed, and these little children 
were employed to cry his dying speech. 

A Frenchman passing the door of one of 
these erudite seminaries, and stopping to listen, 
pursed up his face, and, with a shrug of con* 
tempt, exclaimed 

" Ah, pauvres miserables ! Be gar — dey 
sing like nutting at all." 

What a reflection was this ? The French- 
man having no idea of their being thus learned 
to read, very naturally supposed, from the 
tone of their voice, they were attempting to 
sing, and therefore very justly exclaimed, 
" Ah! Pauvres miserables," &c. &c. 



Is it not surprising that a sensible man, 
who can talk on many subjects with such 
propriety as to delight his hearers, is very fre- 
quently heard to read a news-paper in a tone 
£ 2 



4 

of voice less modulated, if possible, than the 
sound of a six -penny drum from the stroke 
of an infant. 

For instance, suppose he met with the fol- 
lowing paragraph : 

" Last night, after eating an hearty supper, 
died suddenly, with his mouth full of custard, 
Sir Timothy Tradewell, knight, an amiable 
companion, an affectionate relation, and a 
friend to the poor." 

He would read it in this manner, 

M Last night after, eating a hearty supper 
DIED, suddenly with his mouth, full of cus- 
tard Sir Timothy, Tradewell knight an 
amiable, companion an affectionate, 
RELATION, and friend to THE poor." 

It is strange he cannot read as he speaks. 
How awkward and ridiculous would a person 
appear coming into a room, and thus saluting 
the company : 

44 Your servant, Capt. Wilson. I hope 
Mrs. Wilson is very well. How do you do, 
Mr. What-d'ye-caU'em — I hope Mrs. What- 
d'ye-call'em is very well — and Master and 
Miss What-d'ye-caU'em, and all the young 
What-d'ye-call-'ems?" 



Would not this appear very absurd and 
ridiculous ? And if it does in speaking, 
why not in reading ? 



There is another fault very frequently 
committed in reading, which is considerably 
worse than what is committed by the greatest 
of monotonists. This is being so fond of 
musical sounds, that every thing attempted to 
be read is in the recitative of a Spanifh re- 
lator *. Or else they approach very near the 
doleful ditty of Chevy Chace, or the Spanish 
Lady. As a specimen : 

" As near a barn, by hunger led, 
A peacock with the poultry fed $ 
All view'd him with an envious eye, 
Ti ti-tum-ti Ti-ti-tum-ti." 



The Bathologist is another, who commits 
as great an impropriety of speech. The most 

* In Spain there are persons who relate long stories 
in recitative, accompanied by the guittar. 
B 3 



trivial subjects he delivers with all the dignity 
and consequence of the most important and 
elevated. Such a character always reminds 
me of a person rehearsing the tragedy of 
Tom Thumb. This ridiculous affectation, 
although it seems a burlesque upon language, 
was, perhaps, assumed at first to give energy 
to the dignified, and solemnity to the serious 
passages of an author. But using it injudi- 
ciously has perverted the intention, degraded 
the author, and exposed to derision the bom- 
bastic speaker. It is, therefore, to be lamented, 
that from the too frequent repetition of such 
an abuse, it is now become so habitual, that 
we -find it exerted indiscriminately on every 
occasion. 

An Example : 

Thus when a barber and a collier fight, 
The barber beats the luckless collier — "white ; 
The dusty collier heaves his pondVous sack, 
And, big with vengeance, beats the barber — black. 
In comes the brick-dust man, with grime o'erspread, 
And beats the collier and the barber— red. 
Black., red, and white in various clouds are toss'd, 
And in the dust they raise, the combatants are lost. 



Without knowing the rules of either 
rhetoric or grammar, these evils may be 
remedied by observing as follows : 

1st. Let every person learn to read with 
the same tone of voice as in speaking. 

2dly. Be careful to observe the accent of 
syllables, and the emphasis upon words. 

As the emphasis is the most important and 
the most frequently mistaken, the necessity 
of observing it with the most strict attention 
is exemplified by the various changes of it in 
the following sentence : 

44 I must walk up that hill." 

These six words admit of six different 
senses, which are each .expressed by altering 
the place of the emphasis. 

Should it be asked, 

44 J v ko must walk up that hill?" 

The answer relating to the person, the 
emphasis must be placed on the pronoun, 
which is the first syllable in this sentence, as, 
44 / must walk up that hill." 

Should the reason be asked of walking up 
the hill, the emphasis must be on the aux- 
iliary verb, expressing that you are obliged 
B 4 



8 

to walk up the hill. The second word, is, 
therefore, made emphatkral, as, 

" I must walk up that Hill." 

Should the manner be asked of going up 
the hill, the emphasis must be on the verb, or 
third word, as, 

18 I mustwtf/£ up that hlH. ,Ji 

Should the way you mean to walk upon the 
hill, be asked, the emphasis is on the adverb, 
or fourth word, as, 

41 I must walk up that hill." 

Should it be asked which hill, the emphasis 
is on the preposition, or fifth word, as, 
" I must walk up that hill." 

Should it be asked where you must walk, 
the emphasis is on the noun or sixth syllable, 
as, 

88 I must walk up that />///." 

Thus, the chief propriety of speaking, 
depends on the accuracy of emphasis ; for it 
it be improperly placed, it produces a worse 
effect than if each word was pronounced 
alike ; for monotony only obscures the sense, 
while it is entirely perverted by erroneous 
emphasis. 



In all questions, the interrogative word is 
pronounced with a peculiar emphatical 
energy. 

To explain this properly, I can take no 
happier method than my present situation 
prompts me to ask and answer. 
Who am I before ? 
My hopes flatter me, a candid and generous 
audience. 

What am I doing ? 
Craving their indulgence. 

Hozv fhall I deserve it ? 
By pleasing my hearers. 

When may I accomplish that end ? 
As the question when is generally answered 
by ajnother when ; it would be presumptive 
in me to fix the period. I therefore most 
respectfully leave it to your judgement and 
my own endeavours. 

But if I come to my last position and ask, 

" Where *m\Y' 
I easily observe, I am, where even an au 
tempt to please cannot be entirely disre* 
garded. 



B5 



m 

Inconsiderable as points and stops may, to 
some, appear, they are so essential that 
nothing can be written or read intelligibly 
without their assistance. 

Amazing as it may be thought, it is a 
certain fact, that the unfortunate King Edward 
the Second fell a victim to the artifice of 
placing a comma in the sentence of 

" Edwardum occidere nolite, timere bonum est.** 

which his cruel Queen, with whom he was 
at variance, sent to the keeper of his prison. 
In this sanguinary act, she was assisted by that 
pestilent Architophel, the Bishop of Here- 
ford, who devised a letter to his keepers, 
Sir T. Gurney and Sir J. Mattrevers, blaming 
them for giving him too much liberty and not 
performing the service expected from them. 
At the end of this letter was the above fatal 
sentence, which I have translated into the fol- 
lowing couplet, for the purpofe of explaining 
ray observation. 

" To shed King Edward's blood, 
Refuse to fear 5 I count it good." 



11 

' The manner in which the artful prelate 
pointed the sentence was by placing the 
comma after iimere instead of nolite, as, 

" Edwardum occidere nolite timere, bonum est/' 

Had the comma been placed after nolite, or 
after refuse, the sense would have been, 

To shed King Edward's blood 
Refuse, I count it good. 

Thus would the keeper have been commanded 
not to kill the King. 

But the comma being murderously placed 
after the infinitive verb timere^ to fear, the 
sense expressed was, 

Tot shed King Edward's blood 
Refuse to fear. 

The murder seemed, therefore, to be com- 
manded with a kind of indemnity, as ex- 
pressed in bonum eft, or it' is good ; for by this 
artful punctuation, the last portion of the 
sense deems the action meritorious. And as 
B 6 



12 

the clergy then possessed the greatest influence 
over the opinions of the people, such a sen- 
timent, avowed by a bishop, divested the act 
of this regicide of all its atrocity in the mind 
of the keeper. 

All conscientious scruples being thus re- 
moved, the unfortunate King fell a most 
pitiable victim to the vengeance of his Queen, 
and the ambition of the Bifliop. 

Another instance of the power of punctu- 
ation I have to adduce, and which evinces to 
what evil purposes learning may be applied 
when possessed by men of desperate tempers, 
and vile inclinations. 

A Bishop of Asello ordered this inscription 
to be engraved over his gate : 

" Porta patens esto, nulli claudaris honesto." 
u Gate be open, and not shut to any honest man." 

But the comma being placed after nulli 9 in- 
stead of esto, the sense was thus perverted, 

w Gate be open to none, but shut to an honest man." 

This outrage upon the worthiest part of 
society caused the Bishop to lose his bishop- 



is 



rick, although he artfully pleaded, in his de-* 
fence, that it was the mistake of the painter. 

The art of punctuation having such es- 
sential power in discriminating the meaning 
of a sentence, let every person study their 
use, and never forget that a single comma 
occasioned the murder of a king and the loss 
of a bishoprick. 



Our language has only five vowels, and 
yet they are frequently found useless in words 
which contain them. 

T, O, N, G, U, E is called " Tung: 1 And 
such is the force of custom, that a person 
would appear ridiculous who should give this 
word any other pronunciation. But were I 
to call Lingua, which is Latin for the Tongue, 
Ling, I should be thought a great blockhead. 

Can any thing be more absurd than 
P, L, A, G, U, E spelling Plague ? For 
taking two letters from it, it becomes a word 
of two syllables, and spells ague. 

This caused Voltaire, when he learned 



14 

English, to be so enraged at the settlers of our 
language, that he wished the ague had one 
half and the plague the other. There are 
many words spelt exactly alike, which are 
differently pronounced. For inftanee, 
A Bow, to shoot with; Bow, to bend or 

make a bow. 
Close, near at hand; Close, to shut np. 
Job, a man's name ; Job of work. 
Minute, part of an- hour ; Minute, or small. 

We have also many words pronounced 
exactly alike, which are entirely different in 
their meaning ; as 

The soul of a man, 

The soal of a shoe, and 

The fish called a sole, 
are all indiscriminately pronounced alike. 
But to shew our partiality to Jacks, we have 
made a 

Jack to pull off boots, 

Jack to roast meat, 

Jack to hoist weights, 

Jack a pint measure, 

Jack that dances on the keys of an 
harpsicord. 



15 



V 



Then we have a 

Fish called a Jack, 

And a beast called a Jack. 

You'll find also, 

A Jack-ketch in London, 
A Jack-daw in the country, 
And a Jack-pudding every where* 

The Lion has his Jack-all in the forest. 

The Bowler has his Jack upon the green. 

And the Gamester has his Jack upon the cards. 
You may add to these- — 

A Jack twisted on the sprit sail top head, 

A Smoak Jack, 

A Jack-a-napes, 

A Jack of all trades, 

A Jack-a-dandy, 

A Jack-a-styles, 

And a Jack-a-lanthorn. 

But to prevent this subject playing the 

Will O'th'whisp, and leading me intoan error, 

I shall leave the family of the Jacks, whic^ 

are as numerous in this kingdom as the family 

of the Staffs mentioned by Isaac Bickerstaff, 

Esq.- the family of the Wrongheads, the Oes 

of Ireland, or the Macs of Scotland. 



16 

But of what can we accuse the letter H, 
to justify the contempt with which it is 
treated ? 

The pedant calls authority, autority. I 
know he will tell me it is of Greek origin. 
But as we are speaking English, and not 
Greek, we should admit the word to all the 
privileges of naturalization. Such as call 
authority, autority, might as well call beldam — 
bell-weather ; for it is derived from the 
French, in which language it signifies a fine 
lady, and in English, an old hag. 

A boy at school, reading his lesson to his 
master, came to the word Honour; the boy 
pronounced the H. The master asked — 
"Honour? What's Honour? The word 
is Onour." 

" La!" said the Tad, "don't it begin with 
an H ?" 

" What if it does ?" said the master. — 
*' You blockhead, don't you know that H is 
no letter?" v 

The next morning, the master wanting a 
muffin toasted, gave it to the boy and bid him 
heat it. The boy went to the fire-side, but 



\ 



17 

made better use of his time ; for when the 

master called, and asked— -" Is the muffin 

done ?" 

" Done, Sir ?" answered the sly rogue, 

il I have done as you bid me." 

" Well, Sir, where is the muffin ?" 

" La, Sir, I have eat it, as you bid me.' ' 

" Why, you little villain !" exclaimed the 

master, " I ordered you to heat it." 

" Yes, Sir," answered the boy ; " but you 

know, you told me the H was no letter." 



& 



Pi favourite author observes, 

" From Monkish ignorance the land was freed, 
And even country school-masters could read." 

This is an oblique insinuation, that very few 
can read at present. But however this may 
be verified on this side of the water, it is 
quite different in our sister kingdom. For 
there the masters are all men of the most 
consummate erudition. The following is an 
instance. 



18 

Father M'Tutor'em, of the parish of 
O'Prosody, in the county of Docemus, sits 
himself down the monarch of a shed, to teach 
the little puny whipsters the Christ-cross-row, 
so as to make the most lasting impression. 
He has all the little fry for five miles round, 
whose fathers can afford to give five coppers 
a week for their education. 

There was a little Dermot, little Phelim, 
Terence M'Bluderoch, and Paddy O'Drog- 
heda, &c. &c. 

Father M'Tutor'em called, in this manner, 
upon the last new comer, who, be it known, 
knew as much of the alphabet as he did of the 
longitude. 

" You little O'Shocknessey, come hither 
with yourself. Bring your primmer in your 
hand, and your coppers in your fist. Blow 
your nose, and hold up your head like a man. 
Arrah ! don't be hunting after the flies across 
the ceiling ; but cock your eye and look 
strait at your book ; that you may shoot every 
word flying. 

" You see that letter that looks, for all the 
world, like the gabel end of your father's 



to 

cabin, with a beam across the middle of ft : 
that is called A — agusee A; and that letter, 
the next door neighbour, is namesake to the 
little gentleman that sucks the flowers, fills 
the honey pots, and carries a damn'd long 
sting in his tail; that is Mr. B. and B stands 
forblubberlip. Arrah now, what makes you 
pout out your lip so ? Tuck in the selvage of 
of your mouth, blow your nose, and hold up 
your head like a man. The next is, for all 
the world, like the sign of the half-moon, 
where Judy Mac Gluthery sells whiskey; 
and that is called C, and C stands for Cobler, 
or Coblers. And you see the next, that is, 
for all the world, like the broken handle of 
a pair of snuffers ; and that is called D, and 
D stands for Daughter ; agusee Cobler's 
Daughter ; agusee, Blubberlip Cobler's 
Daughter. And that next is called E ; which 
the English flats, bodderation to 'em, call 
E E, as if there were two of them. By 
my conscience, they might as well say 
cheek handerchief, instead of check handker- 
chief, though it was only made for the nose — 
That's true! Blow your nose once more. 



20 

And that next you see, that's like a gibbet, 
with a little plug half way up, for the hang, 
man to put his foot on. Heaven bless you, 
my dear, and keep your mother's child from 
the like of it my jewel. That is called F; 
and F stands for five. Arrah, now, and 
what's the next letter to F?" 

" I don't know." 

" Arrah, now, why don't you know ?" 
I " Becase I can't tell." 

" Now you do know, and you can tell. 
Arrah ! what does the Carman say, when he 
wants his horses to go faster ?" 

" Gee." 

" To be sure : and that's the letter G. 
And if any body should ask you which of 
your hands goes barefoot for want of a glove, 
you may say H, which is the same as both ; 
and H stands for Horse, or Horses, and I 
stands for Jockies. Now, my little fellow, 
agusee Blubberlip, Cobler's Daughter eat up 
five gingerbread horse-jockies, boots, spurs, 
whips, buckskin breeches and all. Mercy on 
us ! What a devil of a twist ! 

M Now I've taught you one third of your 




ffi 7 ,„v,f « 

COMEDIAN 



w~eJ, 



liibluhd b\ 



v KQ.Symanl*. M*y *M*> 



21 



lesson, and I'll teach you the other two halvei 
when you have knocked that under your 
skull-cap. And then, my jewel, I'll tell you 
how to spell. Arrah, but spelling is reading 
itself, my dear honey; for instance now, 
in the word Constantinople, which, I believe, 
if my recollection don't fail me, is that great 
city, my dear, of which Turkey is the me- 
tropolis, where the Grand Turk keeps a 
whole regiment of Januaries, who, mercy on 
us, are devils of fellows at a March. But 
you'll know more of these things by and by, 
when you read history, my little fellow. 
You'll find also, if the Turks have their 
Januaries, the Romans had their Decembers, 
and their Augusts, and their July Caesars, 
But now to spell the word Constantinople, 
my dear. C, O, N, Con — that's the Con; 
S, T, A, N, stan— that's the stan, and the 
Constan ; T, 1, // — that's the //, and the stanti, 
and the Constant!; N, O, no — that's the no, 
and the tino, and the stantino, and the Constan- 
tino ; P, L, E — that's the pie, and the nople-y 
and the tinople, and the stantinople, and the 
Constantinople* Now run home with your- 



22 

self, before the spallfeens and the cooghorm 
eat up the prateesand butter-milk, my jewel. 

" Where's your manners? Make your 
bow, Oh, you will be a Clargy one of thefe 
days!" 



LANGUAGE. 



One great cause of the English language 
having never been reduced to a standard, arises 
from a set of rhyming or lisping gentry, whom 
we may very justly call, Word-clippers. 

The legislature, having most carefully pro- 
vided for the preservation of the game, would 
serve their country much more essentially, 
were they to devise some punishment that 
would restrain fuch as, from caprice or for the 
purpose of rhyme, rob and defpoil their own 
mother-tongue of its chief beauty and orna- 
ment. Should they not be tried on the Co- 
ventry Act for maiming and defacing ? 



23 

Another set of language debasers are 
Lispers, Stammerers, and Snufflers : but as 
these are generally such as owe their re* 
spective impediments to nature rather than 
to inclination, let us content ourselves with 
smiling at their laughable distortion of lan- 
guage, without consigning them to the pu- 
nishment of the Word-clippers. 

The Stammerer beats a tat-too of an 
hour long upon a single monosyllable, while 
he contracts his mouth into as many forms 
as if he had swallowed an alum posset ; and 
it is, with the greatest difficulty, he can tell 
you his name is — Tom Handy. 

The Lisper is the reverse of the other; 
for the Stammerer has so great an anti- 
tipathy to the letters T. H. that he never uses 
them. But the Lisper, on the contrary, is 
so attached to them that he adopts them on all 
occasions ; for he will fay, 

" Where the sweet honey-suckle grew apace, 
The whisp'ring breezes softly fann'd her face." 

The Snuffler is very improperly called 
a speaker through his nose; for speaking 



24 

through the nose is giving the breath its free 
passage, and speaking as we ought. I'll give 
you an ocular and auricular proof of it. 

" On Thursday laft a mad-bull ran into a 
dancing school near Puddle Dock ; one of the 
young ladies having more courage than the 
rest, threw a cambrick handkerchief in his 
face ; but it didn't hurt him much." 

By putting on a pair of spectacles, you will 
perceive I snuffle, which demonstrates that 
this tone or snuffling proceeds from an affected 
or natural contraction or obstruction of the 
olfactory nerves in the nasal passage. 



A speech delivered with an improper ca- 
dence, grates upon the ear like the sharpening 
of knives, or the delectable serenade of cats, 
calling with their untunable bagpipes, the 
neighbouring mouse-hunters to their midnight 
revels. 

What can be more ridiculous than to 
hear a player, with a deep base voice, adapted 
only for Caliban in the Tempest, attempt 



25 

the part of a lover, and deliver himself 
thus — 

" O let me gently sigh my soul away/' 

Or any, with a squeaking voice only proper 
to cry pancakes or diddle dumplins ho ! 
scream out in the martial Macbeth, 

" What man dare, I dare. 

Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear." 

When, if his soul were as effeminate as his 
voice, he would tremble at the approach of a 
puppy dog. 

A few years ago, I went to Drury Lane 
Theatre, to see a play, called the Rehearsal. 
It being the Lord Mayor's day, the person 
that should have performed the part of the 
Bold Thunder was dining at Guildhall, where 
the glass was pushed about with such alacrity, 
that Jove's Bold Thunder was almost sunk 
into silence by the enchanting effluvia of his 
Lordship's nectar, or, to be more explicit, he 

was downright I must not say drunk, les: 

I should incur the censure of being vulgar — 
c 



26 



especially as there are so many words to ex- 
press this fashionable vice more politely. For 
instance, 

The Beau would say he was, 
*- Hocus, 
Non se ipse, 
Elevated, 
Electrified, or, 
Non Compos Mentis." 
A Barber would say he was, 
" In the suds, or, 

Terribly cut " 

alluding to misfortunes that frequently befal 
him in his trade. 

But the rough honest Tar would talk about 
his being, 

" Half seas over, 
Across the line, 
Out of his latitude, 
Beside his reckoning " 
While others would say he had, 
" Bung'd his eye — Was knocked up — 
How came ye so — Had got his little hat on — 
Top-Heavy — Pot- Valiant — That he had been 
in the sun — That he was in for it — Very 



27 

much disguis'd — Clipp'd the King's English 
—Quite happy — Bosky—Fuddled — Muddled 
— Tipsy — Dizzy — Muzzy — Sucky — Rocky 
— Groggy — Blind as Chloe — Mops and 
Brooms," — and many other appellations too 
tedious to mention. But, for my part, I shall 
only say, he had drank more than nature re- 
quired. 

The Lady, who was to perform the part of 
the Brisk Lightning, was almost in the same 
predicament; for being very delicate and 
timorous, she was obliged to fortify herself 
with some cordial auxiliaries before she 
could appear before an audience with that 
confidence which is necessary. Dr. Hill's 
tincture of sage not being then in fashion, 
the tincture of juniper was taken for the same 
purpose. But taking, unfortunately, a spoon- 
ful more than the Doctor prescribed, she was 
disabled from performing her part with her 
usual propriety and discretion. 

In this condition they both went on the 
stage. Both the Lady and Gentleman mis- 
took their parts. She begun with her small 
treble pipe — 

G 9, 



28 

" I am the Bold Thunder." 

" If you are," said Boys, " it is a very 
distant clap." 

" The Brisk Lightning I/' 

said the man in a tone of voice resembling 
that of a large hungry mastiff growling over 
the cook-maid's kindness. 

Thus the Bold Thunder, which ought to 
have been roared out in a deep manly voice, 
was squeaked out in the tone of a guinea-pig. 
And the Brisk Lightning, which should have 
been spoken in a light quick voice, was 
growled out worse than the harmony of a 
duetto produced by the grunting of two hogs, 
the croaking of a raven, or the growling of a 
cracked string of a broken bass viol. 



The tone of the voice should vary with the 
subject. When the latter is grave or solemn, 
the voice should correspond in the Adagio, 



29 

and be also grave. But should mirth or 
laughter be meant to cheer the soul, the Al- 
legro or sprightly style should prevail. But an 
error in this correspondence of voice to subject 
is not so disgusting as hearing such tragedy 
stocks and stones as never felt a touch of the 
Promethean torch. Believe me, I have heard 
his crook-backed Majesty, Richard the Third, 
in the part of the battle in Bosworth Field, 
breath out revenge and slaughter in such 
a pretty, soft, lullaby strain, that you would 
have imagined he was walking in his sleep, 
and only dreamt of a battle — For instance: 

" Come forth my honest sword ! — Draw 
archers, draw your arrows to their head ; 
spur your proud horses hard, and ride in 
blood ; and thou our warlike Champion, 
thrice renowned, St. George, inspire me with 
the rage of lions ! Hark ! the shrill trumpet 
sounds — to horse ! — away — My soul's in arms, 
and eager for the fray!" 



Many would imagine, that a provincial 
c S 



30 

dialect would greatly embarrass ami Impede 
the progress of an actor in his profession. 
And yet there are many who, in defiance of 
this defect and advice of their friends, have the 
temerity to embark on the perilous seas of 
tragedy and comedy. I have really heard one 
of these knights of hardihood, a Northum- 
brian from beyond the banks of the Tyne, 
scour out his words with such an abominable 
Newcastle bur in his throat, and talk of pri- 
vileges and prerogatives , and the brave British 
troops that brought down the pride of France, 
that appeared as if he had swallowed a scrub- 
bing brush, and was labouring with all his 
might to bring it up again. 

As another remarkable instance of provin- 
cial dialect, I beg to relate what happened a 
few years ago at Poulton in the Fylde, in the 
wild parts of Lancashire. The story de- 
scended to me in its provincial dialect by a 
native who was present. 

There were five persons, the wise-heads of 
the town. They consisted of the Squire, the 
Exciseman, the Apothecary, the Lawyer, 
and the Curate, who held a deep consultation 



31 

whether a hedge-hog was an animal, a vege- 
table, an artificial, or a natural curiosity. 

First, the Lawyer defined it to be a thing 
Heaven never made, and as how, he had a 
great mind to serve it with " a copy df a 
stick:' 

The Exciseman, sticking his thumb in the 
ink-bottle, declared—" I canno' gage it — nQr 
I canno' gaum it; but for sure and sartin it 
must be somewhat— or somewhat else. 5 ' — 

The Apothecary, scratching his head, very 
sagaciously and significantly observed — % I 
count it to be a sort of a live thistle," 

The Squire asked Robin, the hostler, if he 
did not think it was a sort of a round-a-bout 
curry-comb. 

And the Parson, after downing his spec- 
tacles, and gloring at it for half an hour, ex- 
claimed, " Odsboddikins, for sure and sartin, 
it must be the devil's nutmeg- grater" 

Such was the profound consultation of 
these five wise men of Gotham, or rather of 
Poulton ; and such were their enquiries, that 
they ended just where they began* 

C 4 



32 



CORPOREAL ORATORY. 



A piece of Oratory, however sensibly it 
may be written, will produce little effect un- 
less delivered with every part of the body 
corresponding with the modulation of the 
voice. 

The face, being the index of the mind, 
should always agree in expression with the 
passion, emotion, or sentiment of the sub- 
ject. Thus every passion of the soul may 
be expressed even without the assistance of 
speech. 

For however requisite and essential may 
be the expressions of every part of the body 
in general, yet the face particularly expresses, 
by its infinite variety of muscles, the pas- 
sions more forcibly than all the human frame 
beside- 



33 



Thus it expresses 

Gravity. 

Stupidity. 

Fear. 

Wonder. 

Anger. 

Mirth. 

Sorrow. 
As observed before, every part of the hu- 
man form contributes to the expreffion of 
every passion and emotion possessing the soul. 
The head is sometimes erected with con- 
scious pride, depressed with indignity, and 
drawn back with disdain. Sometimes a nod 
gives assent, and a shake denial: while, by 
other motions, it threatens, approves, and 
suspects. 

The arms are sometimes lifted as high as the 
face, to express wonder ; sometimes extended 
forward before the breast, to express fear ; 
the hands are clapped by surprise and in 
sudden joy or grief; the right hand is 
clenched, and the arms are brandished, to 
threaten ; and the arms set a-kim, express 
consequence. With the hands, as Quintillian 
c 5 



34 

says, we refuse ', invite, intreat, appear averse',* 
fearful, and doubting. They also deny, ask, 
affirm, dissent, and display joy and grief; 
By the hands many words are supplied, and 
when the language of the tongue is unknown, 
that universal expression of the hands is un- 
derstood by all nations. 

The face* the headj the hands being* thus, 
capable, independent of the tongue, to ex- 
press the dictates and sensibilities of the soul, 
how forcibly must their united expression 
aid the eloquence of the accomplished orator ! 

The French depend so much upon corporeal 
oratory, that they talk more with their heads 
and shoulders than with their tongues. But 
this is not only the abuse of what would, 
otherwise, aid the general perfection of speak- 
ing; for they .^peak first and think after, step 
a minuet as they walk, and keep their bodies 
always dancing while their tongues are talking. 
So great lovers are they of action^ that they are 
ready to wound with their canes, in carte, 
tierce, or segoon, every one they meet. 

The Dutchman, in the other extreme, uses 
not the least action. His teeth perform the 



35 

office of his hands, which he keeps in his 
pockets, and smoaks away without thinking 

of withdrawing them but for the purpose 

of receiving money. 

The Spaniard walks with the state of a snail 
over the leaf of a cabbage, while one hand 
holds a box of snufF, and the other charges 
his nostrils. Every sentence he speaks is ac- 
companied with a shrug of his shoulders, and 
every step he makes has the same leisure as 
the stride of a cock. 

A great fault frequently committed is an 
unnatural and ridiculous contraction of the 
face when they are speaking. Some af- 
fectedly 

Protube their under lip, 

Others draw it in, 

Some draw it this way — [On the left side. 

Others that way. [On the right side. 

These absurd contractions never appeared 
more glaring than in a set cf grotesque figures, 
videlicet — A maiden lady and her three an- 
tiquated maid servants. The lady's name 
was Miss Priscilla Squeamish, whose heart 
was so cold as to cause her countenance to 
C 6 



36 

chill every one who attempted to pay her their 
addresses. Being advanced in years, she had 
a great capitulation with 

Esther Fidget, her own woman, 
Penelope Pip, her chambermaid, and 
Grace Greasy, her cook. 
The faces of these virgins had been origi- 
nally like those of other people. But, by af- 
fectation, they had distorted their features so 
as to acquire them the name of the wry- 
mouthed family. 

Miss Priscilla,one day making them sit down 
by her, said, — " Come, you are all good girls— 
(though be it known the youngest was forty- 
nine) leave ceremony, and give me frankly your 
opinions, on a very important affair. You 
must have observed, I am not quite so able 
to walk as I used to be — not that I am old ; 
but you know I have had some time the rheu- 
matism. I would, therefore, have a coach, 
were there not one great impediment to my 
accommodating myself with that conveniency. 
Do you know I should hate to be driven by a 
nasty he creature of a coachman, and that is 
the sole reason I have not yet kept my car- 
iage." 



37 

Right side.~] " Why to be sure, Ma'am— 
What you say is very true ; for if so be aa 
how, you have a coach, you must have some- 
body to drive it. 

Left side.~] " Certainly, Mistress must have 
it driven unless she has the reins to come 
through two holes in the fore-part of the car- 
riage, and then she can guide the horses her- 
self. " 

Esther Fidget observed, — " Hold your non- 
sentious tongue— ye pair of nizzies, your 
counsel is pertinacious ; it may endanger Ma- 
dam's limbs to be dislockited, were she to hold 
the reins herself. Besides, if the beastesses 
should be rusty and unwilling (o go, how 
could she whip them ? Ma'am must have a 
coachman !" 

Miss Squeamish thus gave her own opinion, 
— " Oh Esther! I can't bear the odious 
thought of a man waiting upon me, and com- 
ing into my house backwards and forwards. 
Oh fough ! You know I never took a Hack- 
ney chair or a coach for that very reason- 
but chose to walk wet or dry. 



38 

Esther Fidget resumed — " Oh, my dear 
lady, may I never die a maid, if I have not 
hit upon the right causation of the affair — 
You shall have an old woman for your 
coachman. She I mean, my lady, is one 
Deborah Dogety, who lives at the next 
village ; she has been used to drive a cart to 
market every week, arid is very fond of wear- 
ing breeches, so that we can but dress her 
up in men's cloaths, and then that will do pur- 
digeously clever ; for she'll have the compearance 
of a man, and not be a man neither ; but only 
a poor harmless old woman. He, he, he !" 

Miss. " Ha, ha, ha!" 

Pip. " He, he, he!" [Right side. 

Greasy. " Ha, ha, ha! [Leftside. 

Miss. " Oh that will do indeed!" 

Pip. " Oh charming!" 

Greasy. " Delightful!" 

Fidget. " Yes, 1 think I have hit it at 
last." 

They all worked their mouths with appro- 
bation. Miss Squeamish gave Fidget a new 
silk gown for her good advice, and Deborah 



39 

Dogety enjoys her place as coachmanto this 
day. 



A -sharp -set genius for dramatic fame in- 
troduced himself to the late Mr. Garrick for 
the purpose of displaying his imaginary ta- 
lents. Although he had scarcely in his life 
been off his shop-board, yet such was his 
opinion /of his abilities as an actor, that he 
thought himself sufficiently competent to the 
arduous task of rehearsing a part before so ju* 
dicious, severe, and discriminating a judge of 
acting as Mr. Garrick. 

This Cockney by birth, and taylor by pro- 
fession, thus addressed our Roscius : 

" Sir, I am your most in-de-fat-abigail 
humble servant — I shall be was fly happy and 
wery proud of the koppertwiity of being made a 
barter" 

" Well," said Mr. Garrick, " and pray 
what part would you wish to have the hoppor* 
Uwity of hading &•* 



40 

" Romo, Sir; Romo, Sir;" replied the 
taylor — " I should wish to preform the part 
of Romo ; for my wife says as how, I read 
Robin Crusoe so zvastly veil ; and as how I 
have so sweet a woice, that she's wastly sure 
and wery sartin, I should make a monstracious 
moving lovyerT 

" Well, Sir," asked Garrick, " and are 
you perfect in the part of Romo, as you call 
it?" 

" O yes, Sir," answered Snip — " I am 
main sartin, I can go thro' stitch with it from 
the beginning to the end on't." 

" Pray, Sir," Mr. Garrick asked— " Do 
you recollect a passage in that play where he 
describes a huge Colossus bestriding the lazy- 
pacing clouds, and sailing on the bosom of 
the air?" 

" O yes, Sir," replied Snip, " wastly 
velir 

" Then pray tell me, Sir," continued Mr. 
Garrick, " when he was bestraddling those 
clouds, which way would you go, supposing 
his stride to have been about the extent of a 



41 

moderate sized rainbow, — I say, Sir, which 
way would you go to work to measure hitn 
for a pair of breeches ?" 

" Lord have mercy on us!" cried the 
taylor, M here's a pretty job of journey 
work ! Make a pair of breeches for a rain- 
bow! Why I don't believe two taylors in 
London ever did such a thing in their lives. 
And I'm sure I could as soon make a pair for 
the man in the moon." 

" Then pray, Sir," asked Garrick most 
indignantly, " how came you to think of un- 
dertaking my business, when you are not 
master of your own ?" 

" Lord, Sir," replied the frightened tay- 
lor, " I only vonted " 

u You only vonted" repeated Mr. Gar- 
rick ; " pray, Sir, tell me — did'st thou ever 
behold Macbeth, with boisterous rage, bully 
the ghost of Banquooffthe stage ?" 

" No, Sir," says Snip. 

" You shall behold it now then," said 
Mr. Garrick. 



42 
PAR O D Y, 

IMITATING MR. GARRICK. 

" A vaunt, and quit my sight ! thy sheers are edge- 
less, 
And thy goose is cold— thou hast no thread, 
Nor needles in those paws that thou do'st stitch withall j 
What manager dare, I dare — approach thou like the 
Grim and greasy lamplighter, or arm'd chimney- 
sweeper, 
With brush and soot-bag — take any form but that, 
And my rich wardrobe shall yet escape cabbaging $ 
Or dare me to thy shop-board with thy sheers 5 
If trembling I inhibit, then protest me 
The botch of a button-hole, — Hence, horrible taylor^ 
hence !" 

Alarm was the word, and the taylor was off 
in a tangent, perfectly cured of his passion for 
the stage, which he resolved never to think 
of more, but to attend to his shop-board. 



There is scarcely a greater defect in the 
character of a gentleman than to express him- 



43 

self improperly, either in writing, reading, 
or speaking. Those possessing fortunes, 
should have the manners and accomplishments 
of gentlemen. But there are too many pos- 
sessing considerable estates who cannot even 
tell a story properly, and yet render them- 
selves intolerably tirefome by continually at- 
tempting to divert their friends with stories,, 
anecdotes, and good things. 

One of these entertaining companions will 
tell you a long ftory of a Cock and a Bull and 
a Barley Mow, in this manner : 

" That a — he said that she said, that it was 
no such thing — and that he said that she said, 
that he should say, that it was ?nonstrous wrong 
in him for to come — -for to go — for to say so — 
and that she verily believed /><? did the thing on 
very purpose." 

A Canterbury Taleist, or tedious Story 
Teller, is yet more insufferable. An author 
may be thrown aside when you grow tired of 
reading his works. But to relieve yourself 
from the weariness attending a tedious Story 
Teller, is thought such an unmannered 
liberty, that I have known a challenge sent a 



44 

person for leaving the room where a man of 
honour was in the middle of his dissertation. 

Next to the tedious, is the impertinent 
Story-Teller, who is perpetually taxing con- 
versation, and burthening his acquaintance 
with some new levies of his nonsense. He 
assumes to himself the character of an impor- 
tant companion, by the power he thinks he 
poffeffes of diverting his company with secret 
history, alias family scandal, and detailing 
transactions that, whether they ever passed in 
the world or not, are of no consequence to 
the instruction and entertainment he is assur- 
ed they afford to all his hearers. 

One of these impertinent Story-Tellers 
thus interrupted the interesting conversation 
of two gentlemen : 

" Sir Harry, what signifies your talking 
of the Americans and such stuff and non- 
sense — I'll tell you a dev'lisfy clever story." 

" When Topham, the great strong man, 
went down to New-Market, while the cook 
was roasting for him a couple of fowls and 
sausages for his supper, he roll'd up a pewter 
plate like a piece of paper, and gave it to the 



45 

waiter to light — for his pipe. Oh ! He was 
a dev'lish strong man — Sampson ! Damn it ! 
Sampson was but a chicken to him." 

" Pardon me, Sir;" said one of the gen- 
tlemen, " I know a man stronger than either 
Sampson or Topham !" 

* Pooh, that's a joke," replied the Story- 
Teller ; " you must not think to hum me in 
that manner*" 

" Yes, Sir," repeated the gentleman, 
" there is a stronger man in this room." 

" In this room ?" vociferated the other — 
" Come, I'll lay you ten guineas of that." 
" Done, Sir!" the gentleman said. 
" And done!" re-echoed the Story-Teller. 
— " Now name your man, Sir Harry." 

" Sir," said Sir Harry, u I fix on you — 
You are a much stronger man than either 
Sampfon or Topham ; for you have lugged 
them both into this room by the head and 
shoulders." 

The Story-Teller, thus bantered and con- 
founded, was, to use his own phrase, struck 
all of a heap. The company being in a roar 
of laughter so much chagrined him, that he 
sneaked off as much ashamed as a perjured 



46 

witness out of Westminster Hall, or a Medio* 
dist out of a brothel. 

The good Story-Teller possesses a fruitful 
invention, and always sufficient, appropriate 
words to explain his meaning. In a word, he 
has judgement to apply his subjects with pro- 
priety, spirit to pursue his narrative, and hu- 
mour to enliven the points most diverting. 

Mr. Hogarth used to tell a story of his be- 
ing once in company with several artists, who 
were boasting of uncommon works each had 
executed. One, in particular, said, he had 
written a volume in folio with a single pen, 
which he had mended 199 times. Another 
declared he had finished an Equeftrian Statue 
with only a broken knife for a chisel, and a 
rolling pin for a mallet. A third stated, he 
had engraved a copper-plate with no other 
tool than a rusty nail. " I told them," said 
Hogarth, " that I once painted a Sacred His- 
tory Piece with one colour, which was neither 
heightened or lowered ; making the back 
ground, shades, &c. with one unaltered co- 
lour." The company expressed their asto- 
nishment, and begged he would relate the 



47 

method of completing his performance. Ho- 
garth thus informed them : 

" I was sent for by a Sir Thomas Thorn* 
ton, a man of singular disposition, to paint 
his stair-case with some sacred historical piece, 
applicable to a circumstance which happened 
to him once ; which was his being at sea, 
where he was pursued and taken by some 
Algerine Pirates. I asked him what he 
thought of the Egyptians pursuing the chil- 
dren of Israel through the red sea ? 

11 Egad," said Sir Thomas, " a lucky 
thought. Well, my dear friend, begin it as 
soon as possible. But stay, stay ! hold, hold ! 
— What is your price ? I always like to make 
a bargain with you gentlemen of the brufh." 

" Dear, Sir," Hogarth answered, " I can 
give no answer to that until I have finished. 
I fhall not be unreasonable ; you will pay me, 
I dare say, as an artist." 

" Hey, egad, that you may depend on," 
said the Baronet; — " but stay, stay! — hold, 
hold! — I can't think of exceeding ten gui- 
neas." 

Hogarth, picqued to have his talents so up- 



48 

dervalued, accepted the terms on condition 
that five of the ten pieces should be advanced 
before he began. The five guineas were paid, 
and the painter desired to begin immediately. 

Hogarth rose early the next morning and 
took with him some common red paint, with 
which single colour he covered the stair case 
from top to bottom. He then went to Sir 
Thomas's chamber, and knocked at the door. 
The awakened knight asked— "Hey ! Who's 
there ?" 

" Hogarth," answered the painter. 

" Well! What do you want?" said Sir 
Thomas. 

M The job is done, Sir Thomas," said Ho- 
garth. 

" Done?" asked the other. " Hey, the 
devil ! no, sure ! The stair case done already ! 
Hold, hey — stay, stay! — Let me get on my 
morning gown — done — hey — What, a week's 
work done in a — Hey. Stay, stay!" 

The knight hobbled out of his chamber as 
fast as his gouty legs would permit; and, 
rubbing his eyes, cried out — 

" What the devil have we here?" 



49 

" The red sea, Sir/' Hogarth answered. 

" The red sea ! n said the astonished knight. 
•■ Hey! Stay, stay! Hold, hold!— But 
where the devil are the children of Israel ?" 

" They are all gone over," said the painter. 

" They are all gone over, are they?" Sir 
Thomas repeated. — " Hey ! Stay, stay ! — 
Hold, hold ! — -But, zounds, where are the 
Egyptians ?" 

" They are all drowned, Sir Thomas/ ' 
said Hogarth, who was considerably pleased 
to have thus so properly chastised the illiberal 
treatment he had received. 



GARRICK AND LORD ORRERY. 

Lord Orrery was the intimate friend of 
Pope andJSwift. In a general taste and judge- 
ment relative to polite literature, he was sur- 
passed by none of his ancestors. He con- 
tributed, with Soame Jennings, and others, 
to a periodical publication called the World, 
and wrote several papers of the Connoiseur. 

D 



50 



He translated the letters of Pliny the younger ; 
and, as a patron of learning, he presented 
Johnson's Dictionary to the Academy, Delia 
Crusca, at Florence. He also distinguished 
himself as an acute and impartial critic in his 
celebrated remarks on the writings of Swift. 
In the early part of his life, he was always 
in what is called the great world. But, ad- 
vancing in life, his penchant for such a vain 
and perishing celebrity forsook him. His ta- 
lent for humour, however, remained unim- 
paired. His lordship being well acquainted 
with the envy and illiberality of Garrick in not 
allowing any other performer the least merit, 
was determined to exercise his talent for 
satire and humour in chastising and exposing 
Mr. Garrick, the first time he should meet 
him at any card-party, or in any circle of ac- 
quaintance where he could successfully raise 
the laugh at his expence. He soon after met 
our late Roscius in a party which he thought 
most favourable for his design. He began by 
extolling the merit of Mr. Mossop, an actor 
of great and deserved fame. And here it is 
necessary to observe, that, although his 



51 

Lordship was profound in his judgement, his 
opinions were delivered with tedious prolixity, 
and consequential pedantry. The following 
conversation ensued : 

" David, I congratulate you very sincerely 
upon the great acquisition to your theatre, that 
dramatic luminary, that star in the zenith of 
tragic excellence, Mossop. The man is a 
gentleman, Sir. He was matriculated at our 
university, and is, I do assure you, adorned 
with every liberal accomplifhment that can 
distinguish the elegant gentleman and pro- 
found scholar. Before he left us in Ireland, 
Sir, he composed and spoke a valedictory 
address. I heard him speak it; and an ele- 
gant composition it was, upon my honour, 
David. Every line was resplendent with as 
rich and glowing colours as ever came from 
the pencil of imagination. It would not have 
disgraced any of the classical ages of anti- 
quity. But I mean to confine myself, 
David — I mean to speak of him as an actor ; 
for in this winter, this blight of the stage, 
when figure and voice are generally substi- 
tuted for feeling, conception, and imagina- 

D Z 



tion, it is no wonder that an actor of so much 
importance should excite the curiosity of every 
admirer of the drama, and that every dawn of 
his faculties should be received with pleasure, 
and cherished with approbation. But here, 
David, I must lament that, although taste and 
learning dedicate every effort to establish and 
perpetuate the fame of the poet, yet the actor, 
who is his harbinger to celebrity, is rarely 
honoured with a single leaf of the laurel 
which he has so essentially contributed to 
wreathe around the brow of the poet. The 
graces of action, the harmony of elocution, 
and that energy of soul which distinguishes 
the favourite of the sister-muse, purchases 
but transient fame, which perishes with the 
possessor. The productions of the pencil are 
likewise comparatively transient ; for they 
are subject to the insensible but incessant de- 
predations of time : there remains not, at this 
moment, a single painting of Parrhasius, 
whose excellence was such, in the justness of 
his proportions, that had he been less vain, 
his fame no one could have rivalled, except 
Timanthes, who was justly voted to have been 



53 

the better painter. But of even Timanthes, 
Apelles, or Protagoras, there does not remain 
a single testimony of their pictorial excel- 
lence, by which we can judge of the justice 
of those praises so lavishly bestowed on 
them by Pliny, Quintillian, and Lucian. And 
sorry am I to add, that if you, David, had no 
personal interest with Apollo, the smiles of 
Thalia, and the favours of Melpomene, 
would, I'm afraid, afford you but a very in- 
secure tenure upon immortality. 

f The stage, and its professors, I venerate. 
Let not the stage be condemned. It is, Sir, 
the laudable school of imitation. It justly 
claims the power of exciting virtue, which it 
rewards, and banishing vice by the force of 
reprobation. I am convinced, that many, 
whose hearts have not been rendered callous 
by attrition with the world, have returned 
from the theatre to their stations in society with 
breasts more disposed to feel and reverberate 
the endearing $nd reciprocal benevolence of 
social life. But I confess, David, it is not by 
those hayley, gayley, gamboraly pieces that 

trill, swell, and shake common- sense to 
D 3 



54 

atoms; nor their dogs, bears, lions, lightning, 
and thunder. — No, Sir, nor any representa- 
tion that tends not to ennoble morals and em- 
bellish society. For however they may de- 
rive eclat from the brilliancy of genius, they 
are dangerous in their fascination. They sub- 
vert sentiment by their baneful allurements, 
and corrupt intellectual purity by their gross 
sensuality. But, Sir, I maintain that the pro- 
fession of an actor is highly eligible, and con- 
demn, with all my powers of severity, that 
cruelty and ignorance of priestcraft which in 
France denies them sepultural rights. But 
now, thank God, the thunders of the Vatican 
are dying away upon the bosom of common 
understanding. They are already in the wane, 
and suffering a total eclipse by the broader orb 
of all-illuminating reason. The minds of 
men, Sir, are emancipating from the fetters 
and dark dungeons of superstition ; and the 
imperial bull will lose his horns. The en- 
lightened spirit of freedom, in the remotest 
parts of the globe, will qualify decent tolera- 
tion and universal benevolence. Then will 
the icy veins of monastic celibacy be warmed 



65 

by the pure blood of nature. Nor will the 
sons and daughters of men longer remain the 
dupes of hypocritical holiness or sanctified 
superstion, 

" I understand, David, you have had a 
great season. I rejoice to hear it. But where 
Garrick and Mossop are, that theatre must 
triumph. " The Douglas and the Percy 
both in arms," in the same cause, have a right 
to confide. You are two bright luminaries 
united — you are the Castor and Pollux of the 
theatric hemisphere ; for no man, David, ex- 
cept yourself, so forcibly exhibits the various 
passions that agitate — and, I may say, agonize 
the human mind. And Mossop makes the 
broad stroke at the heart which, directed by 
the hand of nature, equally reaches the peer 
and the peasant, the prince and the plebeian. 
He is not *he mere tool of whim, or drudge 
of fashion, David. No, he is none of thofe 
fellows whose words come out of their 
mouths racimiferously, like a bunch of grapes, 
which, wanting better entertainment, you are 
obliged to swallow, and a moment after regur- 
gitate, 

D 4 



5€ 

lfr But you well know, David, what the 
actor of fashion is. The actor of fashion 
may be compared to a fellow tossed in a blan- 
ket : his supporters quit their hold of the 
coverlid — I mean those fellows who write in 
the newspapers — and down drops the hero of 
the day with a dislocated neck and broken 
bones : he instantly becomes suppedaneous, 
and, although he shall be to day in the state of 
sublimation, he shall be to-morrow in that of 
conculcation. But as general assertions bear no 
convictions, I shall arrange my ideas under 
different heads, not doubting of your assent 
to my several asseverations, which, without 
my being multifariously loquacious, indeco- 
rously garrulous, or incontinent of tongue, 
shall be extradictionarily founded in fact and 
built upon experience. 

" Now, in the first place, David, his voice — 
I don't mean, David, to set myself up for a 
critic. No! I am too conscious before whom 
I am. I know I am before the Nestor of the 
stage, the Proteus of the scenic art, and the 
Oracle of criticism. Indeed, his beauties 
have been acknowledged by all possessing 



57 

fine taste, and his faults have been pointed 
out by the subtle, the learned, and the ela- 
borate. For me, therefore, to attempt the 
critical investigation of a subject apparently 
exhausted, would be as hazardous as it seems 
barren. But, although it would be presump- 
tuous in an artist to design the model of a 
temple or a palace, after an eminent architect, 
surely it cannot arraign his discretion to fix 
upon a single column, and catch some minute 
beauty in the architrave or frieze which may 
have escaped the mind expanded to embrace a 
vaster obje£i. 

" I shall, therefore, insulate soliloquy from 
every other part of the histrionic avocation. 
Excellence in speaking soliloquy appears to 
me the most difficult to attain in the art of act- 
ing ; for in the spirited and impassioned scenes, 
nature alone dictates. And further, in col- 
loquy, the eye of the speaker is always fixed 
upon the person addressed. But, in those 
unimpassioned and sequestered deliberations 
which the mind holds with itself, when rea- 
son drops the curtain before the eye of sense, 
and every external object is excluded, it is 
D 5 



68 

then, Sir, that the genius of the actor is tried ; 
for if he has not a vigorous and fertile ima- 
gination sufficient to possess himself of his 
author; and a sound judgment, with the 
happiest powers of execution, his attention 
will, unavoidably, be attached to the audience, 
while his words will be thus rendered ridi- 
culous and unnatural. Although, David, I 
cannot pronounce him excellent in soliloquy, 
yet he is very far from being reprehensible. 
He appears to me more deficient in practice 
than judgement. And young actors, you 
must have found, seldom possess, at once, 
their powers in full and complete flexibility. 
Beside, at the moment he has rendered him- 
self an object of attention, it is as unrea- 
sonable to expect him to be perfect as to ex- 
pect fruit in maturity before the tree is 
planted. Therefore, let our love for the 
drooping genius of the stage cherish the hope 
of his possessing those requisites that will, in 
time, render him secondary to none except 
yourself, David. Don't you think he has 
an amazing fine voice — particularly in the 
spirited and impassioned scenes ? I conceive, 



59 

David, (a few instances excepted) that where 
the actor is influenced by mental ebulli- 
tion, he should always speak in the upper 
key of his voice. It is, Sir, the native tone 
of rage, and he who reaches it not falls 
short of the poet's conception. But, Sir, 
every word he utters in those moments seems 
to me to rush from the burning mint of sen- 
sibility. He preserves the fire of his author 
undiminished, and as faithful as the electric 
conducting the scentilatives of nature's flame 
so direct and irresistible, that every nerve of 
the rudest mind is harmonized into that 
unison, felt only when such can vibrate the 
sympathizing chords of the heart. I don't 
mean a rant, David. You know well that 
a rant, David, is misapplying the great ex T 
anions of the voice. Now, don't you think, 
David, that his voice is what the antients 
called the argentum, that silver-tone ? And 
when he speaks mute attention reigns. " Now 
don't you think his voice— ?" 

" Why? A-a-a, now, my Lord, as to his 
: — his — his — voice — I — I — I must acknow- 
edge that his voice is loud enough — a-a-a ; 
D 6 



60 



he has amazing lungs ; and his best friends— 
a-a-a cannot accuse him of sparing 'em. 
And I, I, I don't know whether ultimately he 
will be of any use to the theatre ; for egad, he 
bawls so loud, that the public need go no 
farther than to the pastry-cooks in Russel- 
court, and buy a penny tart, and they may 
hear him as well as if they were in the or- 
chestra ; for he makes the welkin roar again. 
But a-a-a don't you think, my Lord, that 
that there is a-a-a kind of a-a bawl ?" 

"What, you have discovered that he bel- 
lows ? — You have found that he roars ? — You 
have noted that he bawls ? Sir, the rascal 
bawls like a town bull. The bull of lason did 
not roar louder than he does. We always 
called him Bull Mossop, Mossop. the Bull, 
Don't you remember, Lady Orrery, at our 
house in the country, we always called him 
Bull Mossop and Mossop the Bull ? But 
independent, David, of the bull, what do you 
think of his eye ? The eye, David, is an 
organ entirely independent of the voice, and 
has the power of conveying the passions with- 
out her assistance, No man has a finer eye 



61 

than yourself, David ; nor does any one know 
how to use it better — Now, don't you think 
his eye ? " 

" Why now, my Lord, with great submis- 
sion to your accurate judgement and compre- 
hensive mind, does not your Lordship think 
there is a kind of a, a, a film — a, a, a dull sort 
of heaviness — a-a-a blanket a, a, a, I declare 
— when I am on the stage with the man, I 
never knew where to have him. — He's al- 
ways here and there. — Don't you think, my 
Lord, there's a kind of opacity, a, a, a?" 

" The truth is, David, the rascal's eye is as 
opake as a mill-stone. — He's as blind as a 
miller's horse. When you meet him in the 
street, he'll run bump upon your nose, like 
that nauseous animal, the beetle. We always 
called him Beetle Mossop, Mossopthe beetle. 
But independent of the bull and the beetle, 
David, have you any other objection ? Now 
his deportment! Deportment, you know, 
David, is the true characteristic of a gentle- 
man. If a man pulls off his hat, comes into 
a room, or even scrapes his shoes at the door, 
you can always discover 4 whether he has the 



82 

polish of one of us — Now don't you think his 
deportment is ? — is ? — '■' 

" Why now, my Lord, I, a-a-a." 
" I know very well what you are going 
to say, David. You will tell me, that it 
has always been contended by theatrical po- 
lemics, whether figure may not be dispensed 
with in an actor of real genius ? Why, I 
confess, that a man of sense and feeling, 
with a tolerable person, will please a judicious 
audience much better than a blockhead with 
grace and beauty. But to fill completely the 
idea raised in the mind by the poet, every 
youthful personage that is eminent in the 
drama should possess those exterior pulchritu. 
dinal requisites that, at sight, conciliate re- 
spect and esteem. Sir, it augments our in- 
terest in the misery or happiness in the cha- 
racter, and renders sympathy more exquisite 
in its influence. Now, David, don't you 
think his figure and deportment is — ?" 

" Why, I declare, my Lord, that as to his 

eportment, I, a-a-a grant you, he is tall and 

upright enough. But, with great submission, 

don't you think there is a kind of an, an, an 



63 



awkwardness ? A vulgarity, a, a, a I don't 
know how — We have in our theatres, fencing- 
masters, dancing-masters, and, ecod ! drill 
Serjeants. But they were never able to make 
any thing of him — There's a kind of a stiffness 
about him, that a-a-a 

" I confess, David, that the rascal is as 
stiff as a poker. We always called him Poker 
Mossop, Mossop the Poker. But, inde- 
pendent of the poker, David, have you any 
other objections ? Now, his memory, David? 
I believe in this particular we shall unite. 
His memory is wonderfully tenacious. Should 
perchance a lapse happen, which is not sur- 
prising, when the actor's mental repository is 
surcharged with such abundant matters — I 
say, should a lapse happen, he instantly cor- 
rects it by his wonderful power of remi- 
niscence. " 

M Why, upon my honour, my Lord, were 
his memory what your Lordship describes it 
to have been in Ireland, he must have for- 
gotten to have brought it over with him to 
London ; for here the prompter is obliged to 
repeat to him every sentence. Hopkins, my 



64 

prompter, is obliged to split it. and give it 

him in two parts — So that a-a-a " 

" What, your penetration has observed, 
that his head runs out ? Upon my soul it will 
hold nothing. It has as many holes in it as a 
cabbage *iet. It is perforated as a cullender. 
We always called him Cullender Mossop, 
Mossop the Cullender. But have you any 
other objection, David, independent of the 
bull, the beetle, the poker, and the cullender ? 
Now, his disposition — his temper ? However 
the beauties of his person may be inferior to 
the Antinous, the suavity of his manners will 
recommend him as a model for the sweetness 
of his temper — Such a wax-like, yielding dis- 
position, that you may mould him into any 
form." 

"Why — why — a-a-a, now, my Lord, I must 
oppose you in the most pointed manner; for 
of all the most hardened, headstrong, obsti- 
nate, unmanageable animals, I ever dealt with 
in my life, he is the worst; he — e, e, e, e, is 
the most untractable, the most stubborn, and 
the most wrong-headed — I never knew any one 
instance of his inclination to follow my wishes. 



65 

If I advised him to dress a character plain, 
why he would come on the stage like that 
ginger-bread king, Tiddy Doll. If at other 
times it was necessary to recommend courtly 
splendour in his attire, and vivacity in man- 
ner, he would come on the stage as prim 
and demure as a quaker— In fact, he was the 
most obstinate — " 

" Why the truth is, David, he was as ob- 
stinate as a pig, and had more of that animal's 
pertinacity than any man I ever knew in my 
life. We always called him Pig Mossop, 
Mossop the Pig. My Lady Orrery, don't, 
you remember, at our house in the country, 
we always called him Pig Mossop, and Mossop 
the Pig ? But independent of the bull, the 
beetle, the poker, the cullender, and the pig, 
have you any other objections ? But, odso, 
'tis near two o'clock. Lady Orrery, we shall 
be late home. Well, David, we have both 
remarked, with equal candour, upon his beau- 
ties and his imperfections. And I dare say, 
it gives you equal pain with myself, to find 
fault where there are so many beauties. But 
you very well know, David, that the parterre 



66 

would be Soon over-run, were the weeds suf- 
fered to remain, lest the act of removing them 
should lacerate the flowers. To be sure, 
David, he has been most terribly mauled in 
the newspapers. But, indeed, what the news- 
papers say is nothing more than smoak — the 
fume of the day, the dense elastic vapour 
arising from the burning of a jaundiced mind, 
or an hungry stomach. Sir, I compare those 
infernal diurnal critics to an ass in a flower- 
garden. They trample down the rose and 
the lily while searching for their favourite 
bitter bite — the thistle. They contemplate 
genius as common people do an eclipse of the 
sun through a piece of smoaked glass. The 
beauty and splendour of its orb are all lost to 
them, and they see nothing but the dark spot 
in it. But notwithstanding those spots, David, 
I dare say you will agree with me, that he is 
the only actor now living, except yourself, 
to revive the drooping blossoms of the stage. 
And, although he does not possess that ethereal 
fire, which hastened you to such unparalleled 
celebrity, he must always maintain the supe- 
riority over such as are in general indebted 



67 

for their situation to mere voice, figure, or 
acident. Come along, Lady Orrery — David, 
I wish you a good night." 



The utterance of many public speakers 
has been enervated and spoiled in their 
younger years. At home and at school they 
have been erroneously tutored. They were, 
perhaps, told that it was not pretty — it was 
not genteel to breathe too strongly, to roar 
out their words, and bellow like a clown : it 
was enough to frighten a person. Others, on 
the contrary, have been taught to roar always 
in alt, instead of speaking with a well-tempered 
cadence and modulation. This latter tuition 
is generally given to children in these words, 
" Hold up your head, and speak out like a 
" man." 

Thus the first is taught to speak always in 
piano, and to fritter away the natural sounds 
of genuine language and passion with a 
mincing speech and a twittering modulation, 
like a nestling sparrow, or an emasculated 



68 

Italian singer. Mama observes this as a 
monftrous perfection in her darling son ; and 
exclaims : 

" He's waastly improved — a surprising 
child — he only wants a little French to make 
him as accomplished as any of the family/' 

" What is the, consequence ? His voice, 
as he grows up, retains the same effeminacy. 
And when he discovers the difference between 
his own delicate pipe and the manly speech 
of others, whose parents have had the good 
sense to correct, instead of perverting na- 
ture, he associates only with the ladies or 
lady-like part of his sex. Finding their 
company most suitable to his delicate habits 
and correspondent voice, he employs his 
whole time in cards, scandal, and the fashions. 

This remark is illustrated by the following 
conversation, which lately happened, at a 
card table, between 

Billy Gentle, 
Jackey Diddle, 
Sir Simon Simper, 

and 
Lord Softly. 



69 

These delicate gentlemen, being engaged 
at a whist party, had a dispute respecting an 
odd trick, which ruffled the quiescent temper 
of Billy Gentle to such a violent degree, that, 
for the first time, he burst out with, 

14 Jackey Diddle, you flung away the 
game." 

" No, Sir, it was you." 

" Lord Softly, why didn't you rough the 
diamond?" 

44 Mr. Simper, why didn't you lead the 
honour ?" 

44 Sir, it was not the play." 

" Pardon me, Mr. Gentle!" 

14 Pardon me, Mr. Diddle!" 

44 But, Mr. Gentle!" 

44 But, Mr. Diddle! — you provoke me 
to— I could scratch your eyes out — human 
nature can't bear it. Do you know what 
Hoyle says ? 

44 If A and B are against C and D, and 
the game nine all — A and B have won three 
tricks — C and D four tricks. C leads his 
suit, D puts up the king, then returns the 



70 

suit. A passes, C puts up the queen — B 
roughs the next." 

In this mincing manner is every subject 
handled by those pretty gentle creatures, who 
adorn themselves to attack ladies* hearts, and 
who are promoted to places in the service of 
the ladies, in proportion to their respective 
delicate merits and manners, as tea-cup car- 
riers, fan bearers, and snuff-box holders. 
They smile and they simper, they ogle and 
they admire every lady, and every lady alike. 
And they copy the manners of a lady so 
closely, that naturalists have disputed whe- 
ther they ought to be classed among males or 
females. They are therefore set aside, as be- 
ing of the doubtful gender. 

Let this effeminate education be banished 
from our land. Assume the noble spirit of the 
Roman tutors, who accustomed their youth- 
ful pupils to the most hardy and robust exer- 
cises. Their early years were devoted to the 
art of speaking and the art of war. Both 
were exerted with the same unrestrained ar- 
dour and intrepid boldness. It was this mode 



71 

of education which made them conquerors in 
the senate and the field. Inspired with such 
energic principles, they made even their 
judges tremble. The Roman Regulus, plead- 
ing to return a victim to Carthaginian rage, 
for the cause of personal integrity and patrio- 
tic honour, overpowered every heart by a tor- 
rent of eloquence resistless as the thunder- 
bolt, and rapid as the lightning. 

Bad habits are more easily prevented in 
youth than removed in the adult. When the 
organs of speech are tender and flexible, they 
may be moulded as we please. Utterance, at 
this period, may be corrected and improved so 
as to render the speech capable of every beau- 
ty that constistutes chiefly the charms of elo- 
quence. And as the voice is then formed, so 
it generally remains through our existence. 

I have known children sent to school as 
early as at two years old, under the pretence 
of their being out of the way of disturbing papa 
and mama. The necessity of consulting the 
abilities of their instructor is then thought of 
no consequence. 

Passing the door of one of those prattling 



72 

seminaries, I stopt to hear a child spell the 
word Birmingham. Little miss was beginning 
to spell it very properly, as B I R M — Birm ; 
ING — ing — Birming. But here the good 
old Abecedarian skrewed up er alphabetical 
face, and, with all the consequence of a 
schoolmistress, she pronounced, 

" Come hither, Miss Twig, and mind 
what I say to you. The word is Brumidgeum. 
Now mind— B I R M, Brum— I N G, idge, 
Brumidg — HAM, urn, Brumidgeum. " 

This specimen of scholarship evinced, that 
this teacher of alphabets was as ignorant as a 
common sailor, who pretended to teach Geo- 
graphy. He had a tolerable idea of the com- 
pass, and the motion of the earth. But when 
he met with the words— Celestial and Terres- 
trial, the Frigid and the Torrid Zone, — he 
used to say to his scholar, 

" Oh, skip that over — that's Latin, my 
boys." 

Children having a strong propensity to imi- 
tate what they hear, their servants, nurses, or 
companions should never be allowed to speak 
to them in a hurrying or imperfect manner. 



73 

They should carefully expose the absurdity 
of miscalling and perverting words which is, 
by too many, reduced into a fashion ; for 
there is a fashion in words and phraseSj as 
well as in dress and manners, which changes 
about annually. Within a few years, everv 
thing has been immensely great and im?nensely 
little. Miss Tippet, from the cldisters, could 
not drink tea with Master Parchment, at 
White Conduit House, unless it was an im- 
mense fine day ; yet probably it might rain so 
immensely i there was no going without the im- 
mense expence of a coach. Next we hummed 
and humbugged upon every occasion ; the 
Gazetteer humbugged us into a war, and the 
French humbugged us into a peace. Alter 
this, every thing was the barber ; if even a 
chimney-sweeper ran against a decent person, it 
was the barber. The barber presently turned 
into a shaver from St. James's to VVapping. 
Then every thing was a hobby-horse, or a 
bore — whether a man was fond of hunting or 
drinking, shooting, or gaming, it was all a 
hobliy-horse. The last fashionable phrase was, 
that's your sort, which suited all sorts and 
E 



74 

sizes of mankind. But the characteristic 
name which prevailed lately was the title of a 
beau, who was said to be quite the go. 

As a specimen of his charafter, please to 
accept the following. 

His conversation being half French and 
English, is as ridiculously singular as his dres?. 
It is a sort of pye-balled language, as in these 
terms : 

" Oh! My Beau Gar f on. Comment vous 
portez vous? ' I am quite char me to see you, 
Mon Dieu, what has become of you these 
hundred years ? Mon cher ami, I'm just ar- 
rived from Tunbridge. " Tunbridge ? Is 
it possible ? Diaile, quelle affaire could keep 
a person of your politesse there so long?'* 
" My faith, Jack, since you must be ac- 
quainted with la verite of this matter, for I 
know you are a fellow of that savoire vivre 
and esprit, that 'tis in vain to use any finesse 
with you. You must know cette petite drolesse, 
that little toad, Charlotte, who, entre nous, 
has such a tendre for me — Oh 'tis a charmante 
little devil ! She has a long suite of admirers 
too, both of person and fortune — but a little 



75 

derangee or so — N'importe! I shall certainly 
carry the day and crown my conquetes over the 
sex with this chef d'ceuvre. I dined a few 
days ago at Sir Simon Slide's ; by the bye, 
we had a cotillion or two - in the evening ; 
moves gracieusement, my Lady Slide. He Hen ! 
there was present, Sir Simon Slide, Madame 
and Mademoiselle Ogle, her niece. The girl 
is passable. I hope, for her sake, she is not 
deeply amoureuse of my attractions. But, 
a-propos, Sir Simon called on me for a toast 
sans fac.on. I gave a file de joie. Her Lady- 
ship was enrage. The niece, covered with 
her mauvaise honfe, blushed a perfect rouge. 
Sir Simon laughed a gorge deployce. I passed 
it off with my usual bronze, and sung her 
Ladyship a petite vaudeville, which soon 
brought her into bonne humeur. Miss Ogle 
retired. Sir Simon gave me an occasion of 
inviting her Ladyship to take a promenade by 
sinking fast asleep in his elbow chair ; so, si- 
lently wishing him a bonrepos, we loitered to 
one of the alcoves, and there mon cher ami ; 
but that is none of your affaire. But a bocage 
is certainly, my dear Jack, a place where a 
e % 






76 

man of ben gout may taste chere entiere — t\\o 
he should get into a fracas the next morning 
with Monsieur k Maire, the husband, and be run 
through for the bonne bouche of her Ladyship/' 



The passion for studying French has, for 
* many years, raged almost to madness ; al- 
though I will be bold to say — that our native 
language is far superior — both with respect to 
its learned and elegant works and its own pe- 
culiar excellencies. 

The Hebrew has been called the most em- 
phatical language, the Greek the most lofty, the 
Latin the most majestic, the Italian the softest, the 
Spanish the noblest, and the French the politest. 

In the English are happily united the em- 
phatical of the Hebrew, the sublime of the 
Greek, the majestic of the Latin, the softness 
ot the Italian, the nobleness of the Spanish, 
and the politeness of the French, without being 
so confined as the Hebrew, so irregular as the 
Greek, so unequal as the Latin, so effeminate 
as the Italian, so precise as the Spanish, or so 
volatile as the French. 



77 

I mean not to depreciate those languages. 
I think they ought to be studied, and the 
Latin, at least, to be understood by every 
gentleman. But whatever foreign languages 
are learned — and the more are acquired, the 
better, a facility, clearness, and elegance of 
expression should be particularly attained. 

And here it may be remarked, that the 
English language derives its excellence from 
being composed of the select beauties of every 
other. This has caused many envious fo- 
reigners to say that it was a composition of the 
most heterogeneous principles, and a medley 
of languages. It may, however, be ftated 
that it has peculiarities truly singular and 
whimsical. 

It has a word possessing all the five vowels 
in their succeflive order, as — -Facetious. 

It has another of seven syllables, and no 
more than one vowel — I N divisibility. 

There is also a sentence of nine words, and 
only one vowel in the whole sentence : — 

Persevere ye perfec"l men, 
Ever keep these precepts ten. 

£ 3 



78 

There is also an English word of five syl- 
lables, from which, should one be taken, 
there remains no syllable — Monosyllable. 

In another word, which is only one syl- 
lable, to which, if you add another, you make 
it fhorter. — Short, Shorter. 

Every class of mankind, speaking one na- 
tive tongue, have yet a language peculiar to 
themselves. 

The Quack-doctor will tell you that a Petit 
Maitre was mad, from an obstruction in the 
cerebrum and medulla oblongata ; that his blood 
and spirits were too volatile, which required a 
slender and weak regimen, with repeated bleed- 
ings in small quantities; that emetics fhould 
not be spared with frequent cathartics, being 
careful, at the same time, to keep him from 
fire, from the frigid particles of the circum- 
ambient air, which pressing on the perspiratory 
ducts, would coagulate the juices and cause a 
cadarerosity. 

The Lawyer said that the Doctor had 
opened matters — had opened matters — that he 
had opened matters— opened matters which 
his evidence could not support — which his 
evidence could not support, maintain, protect, 



79 

juilify, or defend — juftify and defend— that 
he mould file an information againfl said 
Doctor, and prove him to be non compos ; facts 
assured him that the said Doctor's affidavit 
would not be valid, and a commission of lunacy 
would be immediately issued out againft him, 
the said Dcclor ; that in the case in point, it 
was scandalum magnatum to impeach the Petit 
Maitres, who were the mofl numerous, useful, 
elegant, and innocent body of people in the 
kingdom; and his clients— and his clients— 
and he should, therefore, endeavour to reco- 
ver damages of said Doctor in such a manner — - 
and so forth, likewise, and whereby, forasmuch ^ 
and also as might neverthelefs appear notwith- 
standing* 

Having said so much of eloquence, let us 
beftow a few minutes on the power of music i 
for as Shakespeare says— 

The man that hath no music in himself, 

Nor is not moved with the concord of sweet founds, 

Is fit for treafons, stratagems, and fpoils j 

The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 

And his affections dark as Erebus j 

Let no fuch man be trusted. 



80 

The science of music, which, from the 
time of Jubal, the father of 'such as perform 
on the harp and organ, down to the immortal 
Orpheus, and from him to the perhaps no 
Jess immortal Handel, has ever been consi- 
dered with the highest esteem ; and most de- 
servedly, since it is productive not only of the 
highest entertainment — but also the most be- 
neficial effects. What can sooner quiet the 
cries of the infant than the simple melody of 
^sings to the tune of Welcome, welcome, brother 
debtor~\ Bye, bye, bye. \_Ch i Id cries. ~] Hushy, 
hushy, my pretty dear — Oh you, bye, bye, 
bye, &c. And a harsh recitative will as ef- 
fectually deter them as a good whipping for 
a naughty trick. 

It being customary to have instrumental 
music at our meals, what can please an En- 
glishman better, at such a. time, than — 

11 Lumps of pudding"' — and 

«• The roast beef of Old England ?" 

But that I may not confine the science to 
the infant or the glutton ; what makes business 
go on better than music ? 



81 

A mechanic therefore, in choosing a tune, 
should be careful not to make such a mistake 
as a taylor did the last general mourning ; to 
make work go on briskly, he tuned up his 
pipes, beat time with his shears, and sung, 
with all the judgment he possessed, the much- 
admired song of — 

u Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves," 

which was regularly and continually echoed 
by his journeymen — 

" For Britons never will be slaves." 

The slowness of that loyal tune, ilUaccording 
with the rapid whip of the needle, and the 
smart clip of the shears, so retarded the work, 
that had not one of the men observed, that 
slow singing and quick working were two 
incompatible movements, and introduced — 

if Of all the girls in our town, 
" The black, the fair, the red, the brown, 
" That prance and dance it up and down, 
" There's none like Nancy Dawson." 

U 5 



S2 

and kicked poor Britannia out of the shop, 
the taylor would have gone into meurning in- 
stead of his customers. 



Being on the subject of music, we may 
apply a story of one Darby Logan, the ce- 
lebrated bull-maker, who, when he heard the 
observation made by Pope, that an actor 
should invariably make the sound an echo to 
the sense, exclaimed—" Ough, boo, boo, 
boderation to your sound and your sense, and 
your sense and your sound, and your sensible 
echos too. Ough, if you want a sensible 
echo, commend me to the iittle lake of Kil- 
larney in the County of Kerry ; for there is a 
musical echo, and a zuhysical echo, and, by my 
soul, some people call it Doctor Echo. 

11 Now suppose you stand on one side of 
the Lake, and call out, * What's good for the 
belly-ach?' He'll immediately answer and 
say, ' Shut your mouth and keep your guts 
warm.' Now commend me to an echo like 
that, that if you ask him a civil question, 



83 

will return you a civil answer. And if he 
would, not answer a Jontilman, O' my con-, 
science, but I'd let him gabble away by him* 
self for an hour together ; for the devil a 
word would I exchange with him good, bad, 
or indifferent. 

V Ough," says Darby, " I was once in 
the land of Roast Beef and Plumb Pudding ; 
and I have made a sort of a kind of a com- 
position upon my peregrinations, which I'll 
give to you — and if you like it, you are as 
welcome to it as the flowers in May ; though 
I'm as proud of the performance as the little 
piper was, when he played the children of 
Israel over the Red Sea to the tune of * Over 
the water to Charley.' — ^jHere. sing the song 
of 



There are some actors for whom no name 
is bad enough. I believe we mufl distin- 
guish such by the appellation of Butchers 
of Blank Verse; for they stick their knives 
into the skirts of Melpomene. 
E 6 



84 

I remember to have seen one of these gen- 
tlemen cutting up, in a most inhuman manner, 
the part of King Lear, It was the passage, 
where the good old King is greatly incensed 
against his amiable daughter Cordelia; and 
the honest Kent interposes as her defender 
and advocate. This butcher of an actor 
should have said-— 

" Peace, Kent f come not between a dtagon and his 

wrath ; 
For, by the facred sun and solemn night, 
I here disclaim all my paternal care, 
And, from this minute, tear her from my heart, 
And hold her as an alien to my blood and favour/' 

But when he came to the word in the last 
line, which contains the letters ALIEN, 
and not knowing their meaning, he, instead 
of saying, he would tear her from his heart, 
and hold her as an alien to his blood and fa- 
vour, said, he would tear out her heart like a 
Lion. This, you will allow, was the most 
savage of butchery. 

The same hero personated the next night, 
the Duke, in Venice Preserved ; and where 
he should have told the Captain, the Con- 



S5 

ipirators must all go to prison, and there re- 
main until judgement was passed on them, he 
said, the Conspirators must all go to goal\ and 
wait until the day of judgement. 



And 1 have seen the representative of the 
Royal Bajazet so bellow and bluster at his 
Conqueror, Tamerlane,, who, it should be 
known, was four feet nothing without his 
shoes, and the latter so chirp and chuckle at 
him, that you might justly call the one a 
Tragedy Bell IVether, and the other a Tragedy 
Bantam Cock. 

I humbly conceive, that when his Con- 
queror, Tamerlane, orders him to be libe- 
rated, there can be no necessity for out-He- 
roding Herod ; and that his Sublime High- 
ness must have displayed the spirit of his 
royalty without deviating from his royalty, 
by addressing him in the following manner : 

" Ha ! say'st thou — No— our prophet's vengeance 

blast me 
If thou shalt buy my friendship with thy empire I 






86 

Damnation on thee, thou smooth, fawning talker j 
Give me my chains again, that I may curse thee 
And gratify my rage !" 

But this was the manner of his sputtering 
out his revenge on his Conqueror — [Imitating 
him in burlesque.~\ 

" Ha! sayst thou, Sec, 

Cocky Tamerlane chuckled his answer in the 
following manner : 

" Virtue still does with scorn the mercenary world 

regard, 
Where abject souls do good and hope reward : 
Above the worthless trophies men can raise, *\ 

She seeks not honour, wealth, nor any praise, > 

But with herself herself the Goddess pays." J 

[Imitates the cr swing of a cock. 



I have now to present you with a science 
of Gossiping, which happened soon after the 
birth of a celebrated dramatic character. 



87 

Unworthy would it be to register this gos- 
siping had not the meeting been so particularly 
famous for the metaphysical conversation 
which they, for the first time, started in Eng- 
lish, concerning abstruse and occult points, 
predicaments, qualities, essentials, and im- 
materialities, relative to ideas, contact, re- 
sistance, modes of the mind, habits of the 
body, rules of government, errors of admi- 
nistration, defects in religious worship, in- 
equalities of rewards and punishments, hell, 
happiness, Doctors Commons, faith, perjury, 
simony, heresy, adultery, accidents of mat- 
ter, and spiritual essences. 

Piece-meal have these subjects been retailed 
even unto this day, in every coffee-house, 
tavern, punch-house, ale-house, eating-house, 
and night-cellar, unless the more interesting 
vocations of politics, strumpeting, or gam- 
bling, have employed the good company's 
attention. 

Firji Gossip."] — Indeed, madam, you say 
true— -and I must own that, after my first 
child, I loved to see the hens lay eggs ; for I 
was told they would produce chickens. This 



83 

caused a doubt to arise in my mind — whether 
the yolk or the egg-shell wasmade first- If the 
shell was made first, how came the yolk in it ? 
And if the yolk was made first, how came the 
shell over it ? 

Second Gossipy — That, madam, is one of 
the most curious questions in the world. The 
first who ax'd me this question, was the par- 
son of our parish ; and as I couldn't tell, I 
made my husband send it to the Rial Society ,. 
who'll soon tell us all about it. 

Now, ladies, I w r ant sadly a question to be 
resolved which our vestry has- lately divided 
about — that is, whether still-born infants have 
any sins to answer for ? 

First Gossip.'] — To my knowledge,, madam, 
this is much disputed by the clergy, who have 
not yet decided upon the matter;, although it 
is as clear as noon day, that poor infants, who 
could never speak,, can have nothing to answer 
for. 

AIL] — Oh, to be sure, quite right, quite 
right, indeed . 

Third Gossip.] — Pray, ladies, don't you 
take fate to be a free agent ? 



Fourth Gossipy — To be sure, madam : 
whatever may be a lady's fate, yet she is- a fFee 
agent ; for suppose I was fated to marry a 
certain person whom I could not relish, it is 
at my upshot whether I would act or no ; and 
so fate is a free agent. 

But a gentleman who lodges with me, 
told me but yesterday, that fate and free agency 
were like king and commons; that the mind 
was the monarch* and the will was the people. 
So I told him, that whatever his mind was, 
he could not have his will of me without I had 
a mind. 

AIL~] — Oh, no, to be sure, no, to be suref 

First GossipJ] — Now, ladies, let me afk 
you, as Adam was never born like other peo- 
ple, whose mothers have been with child, and 
brought to bed of 'em, had he a wet or a dry 
nurse ? 

AIL~] — Neither, to be sure; for we don't 
read of suckling being at all the fashion in 
those days. 

Third Gossipy — My brother, you know 
ladies, is so great a writer, that he might have 
been poet Jarum song writer to the Rial Familv 



90 

had he not disobliged my husband and all his 
friends, by intending to publish a book to 
prove how far free will acts upon the load- 
stone; and he says he don't doubt but he'll 
get dipenshum for it. 

Mrs. Murdock, the nurse, then began an 
ethic discourse to ascertain the place of Satan's* 
territories, or where hell-fire was. She affirm- 
ed it was in the middle of the sun. But 
Madam Celery asserted it was in the middle 
of the earth. 

Miss Shred, a systemist.~] — I suppose there 

are several hells, and every comet contains 

one. 

Jenny Douglas.] — I have to quote the 

bible. 

Mrs. Murdock.'] — The bible, my dear, 
we philosophers think beneath our considera- 
tion; for there are so many religious opinions, 
so many books about it, and so many disputes, 
and so many sorts of preachers, that a true 
philosopher can believe nothing that is said by 
such as make all their religion consist in per- 
petually contradicting ea%h other. 

First Gossip.'] — O fie, madam — are not all 
the preachers Christians? 



91 

Mrs. Murdock.] — No, madam. — Why some 
are presbyterians, and some are methodists — * 
and some 

Mis* Shred.'] — As to methodists, Madam 
Murdock, you must excuse me; for metho- 
dists are the only Christians ; for they are re- 
generated, and none can be a fincere Chris- 
tian without regeneration ; but there are a great 
many people in the world of no religion. — I 
did not mention your name, Mrs. Murdock. 

Murdoch."]— And if you had, I should 
think it better to be of no religion than to 
profess a false one. How shamefully parents 
use their children : the poor innocents are 
soused over head and ears, or else they are 
circumcised, or else made quakers, or else 
one thing done to them or else another — and 
so they are bound 'prentice to this or that re- 
ligion without ever knowing which they could 
like. And that makes such different opinions 
and disputes in the world ; for it don't signify 
whether they were made Jews or Chriftians; 
for you see Jews behave as Christians and 
Christians as Jews, m defiance of all their 
religion. So the least said is soonest mended. 



92 

There are some men that may be called 
manufacturers of thunder and lightning. I 
knew one of these characters, who, in devot- 
ing his time to electrical experiments, one day- 
dislocated the neck of a child of two years 
and a half old. Another time, he frightened 
three old women out of their senses, under* 
the pretence of curing them of the tooth 
ach. 

Such was his skill and rapid improvements 
in this fire- creating art, that he had the con- 
fidence to expect that, by grinding a little air 
between a glass globe and a bag of sand, he 
should be able to make artificial lightning, 
which he could bottle or put into casks, for 
the purchase of any foreign governor, wha 
might want a tempest,, or a tornado, when 
suddenly required to settle his accounts. 
This, he thought,, would be a matter of the 
greatest importance to our government, who 
might purchase it of him much cheaper than 
they could possibly make their common am- 
munitioH. The other day he produced a clap 
of thunder, accompanied by a flash of light- 
ning, that blew out a candle,, and melted a 



i>3 

pat of butter. From this success, he had not 
the least doubt that, when the weather was a 
tittle warmer, he should be able to melt all the 
pewter in his kitchen, and break his largest pier 
glass in the dining-room. For, according to 
his calculation, it was then powerful enough 
to kill a child ; so that he was confident of a 
ball, four times the diameter of that which 
he had at present, killing a man in perfect 
health and vigour, which would be a confi- 
derable saving of what was yearly expended 
for doctors and apothecaries. 

Apothecary ! a propos ! there are secrets 
in all trades — but the Pharmacial secret, I 
believe, was not discovered until lately, and 
that by the following means : 

A young gentleman, whose father had given 
a considerable premium with him as an ap- 
prentice fee tQ a very celebrated Apothecary, 
having served five years of his time, was im- 
patient to know the secrets as well as the 
drudgery of the profession. 

His master going out one morning, the 
young gentleman said, " Sir, I should be glad 
to have five minutes conversation with 



9i 

you." — " Is it any thing particular, Mr. 
Brooks ?" — " If you will oblige me, I shall 
be thankful, Sir."— " Well, what is it ?"— 
" I have served now, Sir, five years of my 
time; I think it, therefore, necessary you 
should teach me the secrets of the art." — 
" Secrets ! What secrets ?" — " The secret, 
Sir, of the art of an Apothecary, which, by 
my indenture, you are bound to teach me." — 
" Egad, I don't know any secrets, but what 
you already possess. I never had a young 
gentleman, I confess, more attentive, or more 
critical in mixing medicines, than you are." — 
44 Oh, Sir, I can certainly mix medicines 
according to a prescription; but I think I 
ought to attend you in your morning visits to 
your patients, that I might be enabled, when 
a physician is not to be had, to prescribe 
myself." 

44 You are right, Mr. Brooks — put on your 
hat, and attend me this morning." Going 
together, the first patient they visited was an 
old man. The apothecary felt his pulse — 
44 Good God ! Lack a day ! lack a day ! 
Good God! dear me !— Why, good woman, 



95 

what have you given your husband since I was 
here y esterday ? ' ' — " Nothing at all, Sir."— 
" Nothing at all? Good God! — Dear me ! 
dear me ! Lack a day ! lack a day ! Why 
you have been giving your husband oysters ." 
" No, indeed, Sir," — " Pooh, pooh! don't 
tell me — I say he has been eating oysters." — 
" Sir, I did not give him above three or 
four." — *" Look ye there ! I told you so ! 
I knew he had been eating oysters. I cannot 
answer for the consequences. But, however, 

give me pen, ink, and paper. There, 

Mr. Brooks, mix that draught, bring it your- 
self, and see the man take it. And do you 
hear, good woman ! never give your husband 
any thing but what I order."—" No, Sir." 

The doctor and his apprentice were no 
sooner out of the house than the young gen- 
tleman said — M Pray, Sir — I am all impa- 
tience ! How could you tell — this, Sir, is the 
very soul of the secret I want to know ; I 
say, Sir, how could you tell, by feeling the 
man's pulse only, that he had been eating 
oysters?" The Apothecary, after a signifi- 
cant pause, replied — " How could I tell ?— 



96 

Why I'll tell you — when I went into the 
room, I cast my eye under the bed and saw 
some oyster shells." 

The young gentleman bowed and said, 
" Sir, I'll give you no farther trouble on this 
subject. I am now perfectly master of the 
secret.' ' He then went home and made up 
the medicine, and took it to the patient. But 
when he came there, the man was dead. Re- 
turning to his master, " Sir," said he, " the 
patient's dead!" — "Dear me! dear me! 
Good God ! Lack .a day ! But I did not think 
the oysters would have killed him."— " Sir, 
the oysters did not kill him." — " No?" — 
" No, Sir ; he has been killed by a horse" — 
M A horse? Good God! dear me! Lack 
a day ! lack a day ! Why how the devil 
could a horse get into his bed chamber ?" — 
" Sir, he has been eating a horse." — " Eat- 
ing a horse ?"— -" Yes, Sir ; I saw the bridle 
and saddle under the bed." 

To this pharmacial story, I must add a 
veterinary one. A country farrier, who could 
just read, and was fond of repeating what he 
did not understand, had a horse brought to 



97 

him by a poor farmer. The animal had a dis- 
ease which no person of the village where the 
farmer lived could understand. The farmer, 
therefore, was so impatient to know if the 
farrier himself could tell his complaint, that 
he thu% addressed the veterinarian : — " Now, 
maister Anvil, I know thou beestmain know- 
ing in horse affairs, do tell me what's the 
matter with my poor mare Molly, for no 
parson in our village can tell." The farrier 
immediately proceeded to examine her wind, 
her eyes, her nostril &, her legs, and her feet; 
which being done, he thus addressed the 
farmer : — " Why, maister Haycock, I don't 
wonder you nor none in your village could 
tell what ails the beast ; for you never heard, 
nor they neither, I am sartin, of such a dis- 
order before. Why she's got what the French 
call the Honi soiti qui malli pansi. Did you— 
now tell me farmer— did you ever hear of the 
like before ?" — " No, indeed, master Anvil." 
— " Honey sweats in Molly's paunch !" — 
" Lord bless my poor mare ; how could she 
get honey in her paunch ? Ecod, very likely 
she has been eating a bee-hive ! Well, maister. 

F 



98 

you'll do what you can for the poor beast, 
and I'll call on you next market day." He 
did so, and asked the farrier if he had taken 
the honey out of her paunch ? But how was 
he disappointed when he heard the farrier say, 
•? Thy mare, farmer, is dead." — " I tjiought 
so," replied the farmer; "I thought the 
honey would kill her."—" No," said the 
farrier, " I cured her of that; but not three 
hours after, she was taken with a mortal dis- 
ease." — " What was that ?" said the farmer. 
— " Why," answered Anvil, " you don't 
know if I tell you — it was what we call, in 
Latin, the Vivante Rexe ette Regine ; she went 
stone dead." 



Many say that inattention often causes an 
actor's monotony ; or that it proceeds from a 
defective ear. But may it not be owing to a 
defect in the voice itself ? I am, at least, 
assured that a misformation of the passages 
through which the speech is uttered, will 
sometimes occasion the above mentione mo- 



99 

notony. A glutinous lisp will also bird-lime 
the actor's tongue so as to render his 
speech similar to that of a person talking with 
his mouth full of plumbs. I have heard two 
performers in Otway's Tragedy of the Or- 
phan, so gabble and chuckle at each other, that 
they could be compared to nothing in nature 
except a couple of Turkey pouts. 



Many are desirous of shewing their talents 
as actors, and others as mere nomenclators , One 
of these have been known to call the prophet, 
Habakuck — Huckaback ; the old Assyrian king, 
Sennacherib — old Snatch-a-crab ; and the di- 
vine Physician, Esculapius — a Scabby -Louse. 



It is remarkable that the profession of a 
Strolling-Player should be so attractive an 
fascinating. It is as unaccountable as a man 
of fashion and fortune preferring the profes- 
sion of a beggar, diseased and ragged, to 
health, a clean shirt, and a guinea. This 
F 2 



100 

strange penchant induced Bamfylde Moore 
Carew to become a Gipsey, as well as a young 
gentleman of flattering expectations to join 
a company of Strolling-Players, at Foot's- 
Cray, in Kent. The whole company con- 
sisted only of two young men, myself and 
Mr. Quick, (now of such well-earned cele- 
brity,) an old man and his wife, with one eye, 
their crooked daughter, a scabby-headed boy, 
and a Jack Ass. And I must do the company 
the justice to say, that our theatrical forces 
were reckoned the best disciplined of any in the 
county. This is no mean repute to have ac- 
quired ; for Kent has been ever distinguished 
as the residence of tolerable comedians. 
Naturalists have observed, that turnips and 
Attorn ies thrive best in Norfolk ; that roads 
and smugglers distinguish Sussex ; and that 
it is as impracticable to eradicate bugs from 
London, as to free Kent from hop-pickers, 
gipsies, and strolling-p'ayers. 
. The young gentleman to whom I before 
alluded, repaired to this our very respectable 
company : it was remarked soon after, by 
the audience, that Mr. Quick's and my linen 
appeared whiter than usual, and that we had 



101 

left off chalking our stockings. The fact was, 
the young gentleman had brought with him 
an excellent supply of shirts and stockings. 
And Quick's and my wardrobe being so scanty 
that when a clean shirt fell to our lot, from 
the indulgence of our washerwoman, we 
shared it between us, hot and hot. If it served 
me for the play, it supplied Quick for the 
farce, and vice-versa. So that our two shirts, 
the black and the white one, in the true style 
of a stroller, were continually shifting the 
scene. A continuation of bad success, re- 
duced even the young gentleman to a level 
with ourselves. One shirt each was all our 
boast. But, being all friendly, the three 
shirts were continually dancing the hays, off 
and on each other's back, and in and out at the 
pawnbrokers. But still the company were 
not to be disbanded by adversity. It was not 
those fearful phantoms of hunger, bad shoes, 
bum-bailiffs, rainy weather, no trust, an 
empty coal-hole, a frowning landlord, or a 
scolding landlady, could dissolve us. 

Our little theatre was fitted up in an old 
stable, with one stage box, and that was the 
F 3 






102 

body of an old post chaise. An adjoining 
brewhouse served for the green room, where 
we all dressed. The manager and his family 
occupied the mash-tub, while the rest of the 
company, consisting of myself, the young 
squire, the crusty headed boy, and Quick, 
my little Alexander the Great, found each an 
excellent dressing place in the cooler. The 
roof of the building was so very low, that 
a beam went across the centre of the stage, 
which was very serviceable to Quick, when 
he could not restrain his propensity to laughter; 
even in his favourite part of the love-sick 
Romeo, or his all-conquering Alexander the 
Great. When the ridiculousness of his situ- 
ation affected bis risible muscles, he re- 
treated a little behind the beam, so as 
completely to prevent his face, at these 
moments, being seen. His head being thus 
cut off from the sight of his auditors, the 
beam would, in these days, have been not 
improperly termed the theatrical guillotine. 
After his risible fit was over, he would 
bounce, strut, and make his exit in proper 
style. But, unluckily, one night he was un- 



103 

able to secure in time his accustomed retreat 
behind the beam, when an involuntary fit of 
laughter, while he was performing Romeo, 
subjected him to the severe rebuke of his au- 
ditors. It happened in the scene of Romeo 
and the Apothecary* who going for the phial 
of poison, found it broken. Not to detain 
the scene, he snatched, in a hurry, a pot of 
soft pomatum. Quick was no sooner pre- 
sented with it, than he fell into a most con- 
vulsive fit of laughter. But being soon re- 
called to a sense of his duty, by the reproofs 
of the audience, he came forward and made 
the following whimsical apology : — M Ladies 
and gentlemen, I could not resist the idea 
that struck me when the pot of pomatum, in* 
stead of the phial of poison, was presented. 
Had he, at the same time, given me a tea. 
spoon, it would not have been so improper ; 
for the poison might have been made up as a 
lenitive electuary. But if you please, ladies 
and gentlemen, we'll begin the scene again, 
without laughing." 

To qualify the representations of Tragedy 
and Comedy to make people laugh and cry, 
F 4 



104 

I humbly conceive there is no necessity for 
purchasing a diploma or to take out a batche- 
lor's degree. 

The stage, I have frequently observed, has 
been, as the phrase is, struck at with the very 
illiberal severity of wild fanatics and sour 
cynics. But if actors are struck at, it must 
be allowed there are a many striking actors. 
As an instance, the following is adduced. 

Jack Sly is passionately fond of a play, and 
talks of nothing but Shakespeare, Ben Jon- 
son, or his favourite Ben ; while John Bull, 
who is as fond of boxing, talks of nothing so 
much as Johnson and Big Ben. These two 
meeting at a barber's shop, where they had 
often met before, began a conversation upon 
their favourite topics. Jack Sly commenced, 
with informing the barber's customers in 
waiting, that he had been at the Battle of 
Hastings in Govent Garden. " What battle ?" 
says Bull. " The Battle of Hastings," said 
the other; " where I was struck in such a 
manner as, upon my soul, I was never so 
struck before." — " Why ! who struck you ?" 
asked Bull.—" Why, Mr. Pope, the trage- 



105 

dian, and very forcibly too," answered the 
other. " What does the man mean?" said 
the Philo-pugiiist. " What do I mean!" 
re-echoed Sly — " Why I mean that I was 
struck at the battle of Hastings by Pope, of 
Covent Garden." " What, did Pope of Co- 
vent Garden strike you ?" " Yes, and very 
forcibly too." " And you put up with it ! 
Well, had he been the Pope of Rome, and 
had struck me, dam-me, but I would have 
struck him again." 

There was John Bull in perfection, display- 
ing his -native spirit and disdain of being struck 
by any person. 

But, however we may applaud the spirit 
which an Englishman has ever shewn against 
the indignity of a blow, yet we cannot but 
condemn the encouragement that is given to 
pugilists, who fight for interest, and without 
the least motive for resentment. Conscious 
of the impropriety of such a practice, I am 
induced to submit the following respecting 

BOXING. 

However reluctantly I may bring forward 
F 5 



106 

such subjects as are an indignity to any ex- 
hibition, that has the smallest pretension to 
taste, elegance and refinement, I cannot omit 
noticing Boxing, which is a disgrace to the 
times, and a marked reproach to civilized 
manners. To see a vile contention between 
low cunning and vulgar strength in the per- 
sons of J:wo human brutes, degrades the hu- 
man character. And the respectability of 
the country is equally iarnished by the 
public prints being filled with the ferocious 
eloquence of bravoes, in despite of the laws 
that should preserve the civil decencies and 
decorums of society. It is, therefore, to 
be lamented, that the subjects of any coun- 
try should be suffered to debase their na- 
tures with an unprovoked ferocity unknown 
to the tyger or hyena. But what is the 
credit of his country to one who has a mind 
for a little fun ? Black eyes, bloody noses, 
and punches in the bread-basket are now 
sports almost for ladies. But to proceed to an 
example : 

One of these maimers of the human car- 
case will professionally tell you, Upon his 



107 

honour, and as hes a genelmayi, he 11 teach you the 
art of defence the first bout, by only keeping you 
out of company for a week — and, the second bout, 
he'll teach you the offensive, by only sending you 
to bed for a fortnight — that is, by beating you 
until you are not fit to be seen ; and, in the 
third, he'll turn you out a complete boxer; 
or, to speak more fashionably — a complete 
pugilist^ provided he's not so unfortunate as to hill 
you by breaking a blood vessel. 

These fellows are trained, like game cocks, 
to deal mischief to their opponents. The 
only difference between them is, that the in- 
stinctive courage of the feathered tribe is ag- 
gravated by brutal man into madness. And 
that skill and strength, which in man should 
never be used, unprovoked, to the annoyance 
of another, is irritated and encouraged to 
such a height of false courage, that, were it 
not for shame, would be shaken at every 
blow. Or else, why do they, according to 
their own phrase, give out? — Why confess 
themselves conquered ? Why do they not 
fight to the last gasp ? Oh disgrace ! inde- 
lible disgrace ! that a game cock should have 
F 6 



108 

more courage than a boxer ! I shall close this 
subject by the following story : 

A British sailor, a character naturally 
averse to unnecessary fighting, was provoked 
by one of these professional human carcase- 
butchers or boxers, until he could no longer 
endure it with patience. He agreed, therefore, 
to fight it out. Some of his companions pro- 
cured ropes, and fixed the two combatants 
at such a distance as prevented either from 
running away, shifting, or falling down. 
This was done in despite of the man of sci- 
ence, who said — such a practice was foul, and 
contrary to all the laws of Boxing. The 
boxer, being thus deprived of trick and shift, 
was obliged to depend more upon his strength 
than his art ; he was soon therefore obliged 
to yield to the superior prowess of his antago- 
nist, who, on his yielding, cried out — " Here ! 
unship that lubber there ! — Damme ! but I 
wish we had a hundred or two such on board 
the Terrible, were they only to stuff the 
netting." 



log 

But of all the extraordinary characters with 
which this country abounds, that of the Quack 
Doctor is the most strange, outre, whim- 
sical, and ridiculous. This has caused some 
of our most famous story-tellers to be saluted 
with the title of Doctor, whenever they enter 
a room full of company by whom they are 
known. They derive this diftinction from 
telling a story of the above medicinal 
personage. They are commonly re- 
ceived by their acquaintances with " Ah 
Doctor ! — How do you do, Doctor ? Now, 
now, we shall have the Quack Doctor in style. 
His story being thus preluded, he rises up and 

begins : 

" Gentlemen, 

" I beg leave to inform you, that I am 
the very celebrated Doctor Puff Stuff Sham 
Quirk'em to Augfu, Physician to the sole 
Governor of the Earth, the most magnanimous 
and puissant Chou Khan, Emperor of China. I am 
Professor of Magic, Physic, Surgery, and Ana- 
tomy in the University of Pekin ; Oculist and 
Dentifricator to all the Monarchs of the Eaji ; 
Manmidwife to the Empress Pinka Panka, and 



110 

Member of every Medical Society throughout 
the vast Empires of China, Persia, Turkey, 
and Indostan. 

" I have enjoyed these high honours in my 
native country, and was chief favourite and 
counsellor to the Emperor. But being con* 
verted to Christianity by Lord Macartney in 
his late embassy, I was obliged to escape in 
an open boat, in which, after a long and pe- 
rilous voyage, I arrived at Capa Bona de 
Esperanza, the Cape of Good Hope, from 
whence I took shipping for England. 

*' This may be considered, Gentlemen, as 
the most fortunate event that ever happened 
to Europe ; for you must know, that I have 
brought with me the following unparalleled, 
inestimable, and never-before-discovered se- 
crets. 

" First. My most surprising Balsam, called 
P aramandelang Ratskiammum from Whamg~ 
waghgang, situated thirty degrees South of the 
South Pole. This wonderful of all wonderful 
balsams, if only rubbed for five minutes or* 
the gums, will cause a new set of teeth to 



Ill 

sprout up, like mushrooms in a hot-bed, to 
the amazement of all beholders. 

" I have also invented a machine, which 
will extract the whole entire old set of teeth 
in the tenth part of a moment, without the 
patient feeling the operation, or knowing his 
loss. 

" Secondly. I perform the most astonish- 
ing operations upon the eye ; and I have a cer- 
tificate under the hand and seal of his Siamese 
Majesty, who, having lost his sight by cata- 
racts in each eye, sent an embassy to China 
for the Emperor, to permit my visiting 
him at Siam. On my arrival, I, with most un- 
paralleled skill, extracted both of his Majesty's 
<?yes, and then, anointing the empty sockets 
with a particular glutinous application, I dex- 
terously inserted a pair of eyes taken out of 
the head of a living lion. I thus not only 
restored his Majesty's vision, but bestowed 
on him such a ferocity of countenance, as 
makes him most terrible to all his enemies. 

'* I beg leave to observe, that my patients 
may have the choice of the eyes of different 



112 

animals, so as to best suit their faces and pro- 
fessions. 

The soldier may be furnished with the eyes 
of a lion, a tyger, or panther ; the lover with 
those of a spaniel or goat ; and such persons 
as are obliged to work much at night, I can 
furnish with cat's eyes, which will enable them 
to see in the dark as well as by day- light. I 
also give a considerable price for sound human 
eyes, which I extract without the blow of a 
pugilist, or any other pain to the seller. 

" Thirdly. I have an illustrious ointment, 
called Syang, Yang, Ching, Qjuey Ischenumencow, 
prepared from the quintessence of a humming- 
bird's marrow : this superlative medicine was 
discovered by Li Laokum, who lived five 
thousand years before the Mosaic creation, 
and from whom, I am in a right line, de- 
scended. This ointment, arpplied to the: 
stump of a leg or an arm, will cause imme- 
diately a regeneration of the parts which have 
been destroyed. Thus shall the patient have, 
in five days, as perfect a foot or hand, as he 
had before the amputation. 



113 

11 Fourthly. I have a restorative root* 
which contributed so greatly to the population 
of the Chinese Empire, that, by its constant 
use, the Empress Pinka Panka, though 
eighty years old, continued to bring forth 
children when I left China. I attended her 
in her last labour, when she was delivered of 
seven living children, and each w 7 as as large 
as any European when new born ; and all this 
was effected without her Sublime Highness 
having a single pain. The method of use is 
peculiar to myself. 

" I have brought over the method of ban- 
daging, by which the Chinese Ladies confine 
their feet to that beautiful smallness, so as to 
be scarcely equal to the great toe nail of 
any Russian, Austrian, Hungarian, or Mus- 
covian princess. 

" It is unnecessary for me to descant any 
longer on my own merit ; all impartial people 
must be convinced of my being the most 
profound philosopher and physician, and the 
most exalted genius that the world ever pro~ 
duced." 






114 
Pope says — * 

tc *Tis not enough no harshness gives offence j 
The sound should be an echo to the sense. 
* # # # # # 

When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, 
The line too labours, and the words move slow." 

If it be not enough that no harshness gives 
offence, how must the ear be tortured by our 
modern tragedy- chaunter — pipers, trumpet- 
ing out their words as Mrs. Tabitha Bramble 
aptly calls it, " quite cockloftical and high 
poppity mountain" For instance- 
In the tent scene of King Richard, where 
he comes forth shuddering with guilt and 
horror — the awful stillness of the night 
added to a conscience incessantly reminding 
him of his cruelties, I conceive any man in 
his senses, would speak it as nearly this way 
as possible. 

u 'Tis now the dead of night, and half the world 
Is in a lonely solemn darkness hung $ 
How awful is this gloom ! and hark from camp to 
camp 



U5 

The hum of either army stilly sounds, 
That the hVd centinels almost receive 
The secret whispers of each other's watch." 

But how contrary to common sense, and 
how dissonant to a correct ear, must be the 
same lines bawled out in a high trumpeting 
tone of voice, as 

[Burlesquing Smith's monotony-, 

" 'Tis now the dead," &c. 

The actor, who spoke it in this manner, 
could not have heightened and concluded the 
burlesque more than by crying — 
M Past twelve o'clock, and a cloudy morning " 



Mr. Murphy has very properly observed, 
that men of genius have no patrons now as in 
former times. 

Horace had his Maecenas, Virgil his 
Pollio, and Martial his Domitian. But now 
the man of genius is left to perish in a garret. 
But introduce a fellow that can sing a song, 






116 

write a dull political pamphlet, or roar a 
catch, and he shall spend six weeks in the 
country by invitation. A man of genius was 
the other day accosted, abruptly, in his garret, 
by the footman of Sir Minnikin Pinfly, who 
pretended to be his Maecenas. " Sir, you' 
must come to our house this moment." 
Great People are to be obeyed implicitly ; 

for PASSIVE OBEDIENCE is elected FOOT- 
STOOL-MAKER to Lady Fashion. Away 
he went with the servant, running, trotting, 
walking, panting, and almost breathless ar- 
rived at the place of his patron. 

The footman announcing, that the man 
who made books was below, his honour said, 
" Very well; let him wait;" which he did 
about three hours before he had the happiness 
of a command to attend there next morning. 
This command was delivered by the most re- 
spectable personage himself, who conde- 
scended to give him that order viva voce, 
while the man of genius stood bowing at his 
chariot door before he pulled the glass up. 

It is, however, necessary to make some 
apology for Sir Minikin's seeming contemp- 



117 

tuous manner, which was owing to his 
having too great a regard for the arts and 
sciences. He had with him, at that moment, 
an artist from Siberia, who had met with the 
celebrated tooth and pinion scheme of Mr. Jo- 
nathan Swift, for making verses mechanically. 
He had improved upon the hint, and con- 
structed an engine for the universal erudition 
of mankind, respecting the arts and sci- 
ences. 

This piece of mechanism being just im- 
ported, was brought to Sir Minikin for his 
patronage, just as the footman was an- 
nouncing the arrival of the genius or book- 
maker. Sir Minikin saw at once its amaz- 
ing utility, and cried out, Bravo, before 
one wheel went about. By this very extra- 
ordinary machine, the whole circle of sciences 
was taught by the new discovered principle of 
intuition. In half an hour's time, the pur- 
chaser became an universal master of arts, as 
easily as pretty Miss can grind a tune upon 
the hand -organ. 

This piece of wonderful mechanism being 
very dear, it could not be purchased by any 



118 

but persons of fortune. It therefore kept the 
knowledge of every art and science within 
the circle of what is called the polite world. 
And as every thing is estimated by its worth, 
and as the worth of any thing is only what it 
will sell for at market, and as none but rich 
people can afford to buy every thing, and as 
every thing a man buys is his own — only 
those of estate, family, title, or pension, can 
be said to possess the arts and sciences, as pur- 
chased. by this miracle of mechanism. 

It has, according to the fashion, a Greek 
name : for instance, we have — The Panorama, 
or View of London — Mr. Clagget's Musical 
Instruments — The Teleochordon — The Aicuton 
— Mr. Walker's Eiduranion— Lutherbourgh's 
JLidophusicon—The Filtering Stone is nomi- 
nated The Apolepsia Alexicacon— and this in- 
strument is called — The 

TECH UICATHOLICAUTOM ATOP AN TOPPIDON, 

OR, 

The Clock-Work School-Master. 
It was therefore esteemed as the most im- 
mensely convenient and elegant piece of fur- 
niture. 



119 

The Technicatholicautomatopantoppidon 
would teach grown people of fashion to be 
persons of reading and taste while their hair 
was dressing. One objection was made to 
the engine, which was, that it could not be so 
proper a thing to vent the spleen of the iras- 
cible upon as a living creature. Because it 
is the ultimatum of taste among the very best 
bred, to behave rudely to those ingenious per- 
sons who have only their own merit to re- 
commend them ; and more especially should 
the artist, by the misconduct of his parents, 
and cruel decree of providence, be born in 
England. 

The reason of men of genius being so sel- 
dom rewarded, cherished, encouraged, or 
patronized, by men of fortune, is, because 
men of fortune don't understand genius. To 
be a man of fashion they think is the excel- 
lence of perfection; or they would not lavish 
such large sums for the encouragement of 
grooms, gamblers, and prostitutes, when so 
many works of personal and public utility be- 
come abortive for the want of their attention 
and encouragement, Is it not a shame that 



120 

so noble a nation as England, which is re- 
nowned throughout the world for arts and 
arms, that the most distinguished characters 
for title^ fortune, and consequence, should 
set no better example than exhausting their 
constitutions and their fortunes in an eternal 
round of visits, cards, auctions, foreign Sel- 
lers, and ballad singers. 

It has been said that every person must be a 
scoundrel, a liar, pitiful, illiterate, damned, 
contemptible, despicable, filthy, fulsome, 
horrid, vile, vulgar, base, odious, and one 
(f the meb, or the swinish multitude, who is 
not a person of fortune, fashion, or lamily. 

The following is an instance of that con- 
temptuous behaviour with which unworthy 
wretches think they have a right to insult 
modest merit. It is a conversation between a 
man of fortune who had been a tea dealer, 
and an author of unassumed but real talents 
improved and embellished by a liberal educa- 
tion. 

Caddy. — " And so, Sir, you have — got — 
a — heigho — {Yawns) — have got a play, Sir. 
Pray, Sir, where was you bred up, pray?" 



121 

Author. — " At Leyden, Sir/' 

Caddy. — " At Leyden ? What among the 
Dutch ? Droll enough ! — Faith, a fine place 
to make plays in. — Butter, cheese, and Hol- 
land's gin, are three fine ingredients for poe- 
try, ha, ha, ha — I suppose all the ladies in 
your piece are Dutch /rows. Yes, damn me ! 
Til hold fifty on't — and all the fine gentlemen, 
Mynheer Love Makers, who, if they quarrel, 
instead of drawing their swords, go to 
snicker -de -snee with one another." 

A lady who was present said, — " My dear, 
Mr. Caddy, I am ashamed of you. How 
can you shock a gentleman so ?" 

Caddy. — " Shock the gentleman ! No 
faith ! He knows too much of the world for 
that. And I keep company with the best 
writers in England. Sure, my dear, I must 
know how to behave to authors. Well, Sir, 
and so at Leyden, you say — I suppose you 
studied the oriental sciences there ?" 

Author.—" The oriental languages, Sir?" 

Caddy. — No, Sir, I mean the oriental sci- 
ences. I believe I am too much acquainted 
with both sciences and languages. I read um 

G 



122 

all and every one, from the tutonic down to 
old Homer s Talemachus, his ill-lad and odd 
Essays, and all his Oddities." 

Lady. — " Upon my honour, Mr. Caddy, 
you have had a vast iddication." 

Caddy. — " No, faith — I never read much, 
'pon honour; I was rather a buck at school. 
But I had a quicker way of study, I believe, 
than any other fellow ever had in the world. — - 
But a — Mr. Author — and so — don't you never 
write songs ?" 

Author. — " Sometimes, Sir." 

Caddy. — " O, aye, there's nothing so easy 
as writing your summer season ballads for the 
public places of amusement — Astley's, Sad- 
ler's Wells, and the Circus ; for all the merit 
is juft making the name jingle at the termina^ 
tion of each stanza, such as 



Kitty Downs 

and 
Ods Zounds, 
Miss Apple 

and 
Two Couple. 



Polly Savage 

and 
Red Cabbage. 
Lovely Miss Harriot 

and 
Old Judas Iscariot. 



123 

Nothing you see so easy. Yes, yes, master 
Truster has made that perfectly easy. Come, 
Sir, sing us one of your songs to this lady ?" 

Author. — " Indeed, Sir, I cannot sing." 

Caddy. — Not sing ! — but I insist on it, to 
oblige the lady. — Now we'll have some fun. 
We'll make him expose himself." 

Lady.-^-" For heaven's sake, Mr. Caddy, 
don't ask him. See how disconsolate he looks. 
It really shocks me." 

Caddy. — " Well, now you shall have a 
droll scene, my dear. And so, Sir, I sup- 
pose you live by writing ?" 

Author. — " I endeavour to maintain myself 
and tamily, Sir, by every exertion of my 
small capacity, that honesty and industry will 
warrant." 

Caddy. — " And pray, Sir, what can you 
get a year by writing?" 

Author. — «• As to that, Sir — " 

Caddy. — " Ay, as to that, Sir- Oh, 

mum, a word to the wise is enough. You 
are not willing to confess, lest I should want 
to borrow a cool hundred of you. Why, 
Sir, my credit is pretty good. And if you 
G2 



124 

were to lend me a cool thousand, I'd give you 
four and an eighth for it. I suppose, Sir, you 
are too conversant with the stocks to be igno- 
rant of what that is a year ?" 

Lady. — " Dear, Mr. Caddy, you are very 
wrong, and barbarously absurd — you see 
he turns pale and red every minute. Indeed 
you have hurt him too much." 

Caddy. — Well, mum, then. — ■" I suppose, 
Sir, in your play, you have been critically 
exact in preserving the unities. I -suppose 
you have seen what Harry Stottle and Bess 
Hugh say upon the subject ? for that's what 
I blame Shakespeare for ; the fellow had a 
fine knack at metaphor to be sure, but he 
never understood the unities. 'Tis a pity he 
had not been a scholar, and could have read 
what Harry Stottle and Bess Hugh say." 

Anther. — "Aristotle, Sir, to the best of my 
remembrance, says — " 

Caddy. — " Ay, ay, I know as well as you 

do what But that's nothing to the purpose 

now — what either Harry Stottle, or his bro- 
ther, the stagyrite, says ; I speak how things 
should be done. Damn it ! there's nobody — 



125 

but gentlemen* — can write or judge of writing. 
I wish it was not quite so damn'd scandalous 
to be either an author or a scholar. There 
are, indeed, about twelve of us that could 
restore the drama to that original purity in 
which the divine Plato, the preceptor of 
Socrates and Plautus, says the stage ought to 
be preserved. 5 ' 

Author. — " Under favour, Sir ; I did not 
think Plato was much attached to dramatic 
poetry, any more than he was to Homer, 
whom I can't think he uses with much libera- 
lity." 

Caddy. — " What, doesn't Plato use Homer 
well ? That's false ! Mr. Author, you must 
allow me to tell you — I beg pardon — but I 
know better — Plato is the best friend Homer 
ever had." 

Author. — " But I mean, Sir, that Plato 
who was disciple to Socrates." 

Caddy. — " Pho, pho ! Mr. Author, we 
ain't to be humm'd so, neither! You're de- 
vilishly out. There never was but one Plato, 
and he taught Socrates all he know'd ; and if 
you have a mind to a bett, you shall have 
G 3 



126 

your sum on't. This Plato, my dear lady, 
was colempre with the first primitive fathers ." 

Lady. — " Pray, Mr. Caddy, were the 
prime five fathers poets or play- writers ?" 

Caddy. — " No, no, madam ; they were 
what was called Christian Philosophers, in 
opposition to the Heathen Philosophers. And 
this Socrates we have been talking of, he was 
burned for his religion, because he turned 
Christian." 

Lady. — " Let me perish, Mr. Caddy, if 
your memory isn't astonishing. I shall be 
jealous lest your having so much learning in 
your head should prevent your thinking of 
me." 

Caddy. — " Never, by all that's soft, I 
swear." Upon which he kissed the lady, and 
turned to the author with a look ot self-com- 
placency, as if he would have said — wj^at 
would you give could you do so ? "I sup- 
pose, Mr. Author, that you must have heard 
of Sophocles and Empedocles ?" 

Author.- — " Yes, Sir." 

Caddy. — " I read all their works at college, 
but their Tragedies and Comedies. And 



127 

though I never looked into them since, I 
only wish I had a hundred on't — that I 
couldn't say 'em all by hearty without missing 
an apostrophe. And I suppose you have 
heard of Terence, and Euripedes, and Lucan's 
true history ? Swift stole every line of 
Gulliver from him, to my knowledge." 

Lady. — M Well,, this conversation is to me 
immensely agreeable. My dear Caddy, you 
are the most surprising creature M 

Caddy. — " My soul's affection, I do be- 
lieve — nay, without vanity, I'm sure on't, 
that had I a mind to't, I could have made a 
greater figure as a writer or a scholar than any- 
one of um all. But I was always above such 
slovenly, pedantic notions; authors are very 
w^ell, when a mar, has a mind to make a lady 
a present of a song, or an arristocrostick. 
Why then such fellows are useful ; because 
they take the trouble of composing these 
things off a gentleman's hands;, and books — r. 
why now and then of a rainy day, are well 
enough ; but, at other times, they are damn'd 
low, dull stuff; — but I beg your pardon, 
Mr. Author, I had forgot you was here. I'll 

G 4 



128 

puzzle him— I'll throw a dab of Latin at 
him \_aside to the Lady] — You remember Ho- 
race his advice about discipline — 

Qui mihi dicipulus puer es cupis atque doceri. 

Author. — u I beg, Sir, your pardon— but 
that is not in Horace. " 

Caddy.—" Not in Horace! That's a fine 
hum, indeed. Not Horace! Why, what the 
devil, sure I know Horace a little better than 
you. I thought I should find you out — Why, 
doesn't he go on and say — 

*< Hoc ades hue amino concupidictis tuo." 

Up he started, looked in the pier-glass, and 
stroked his eye-brows gently. The Lady 
at that instant, standing with her back to him, 
said to the Gentleman, " Sir, this Gentleman 
is a prodigious scholar, and you must submit 
to him in these things, I assure you." The 
author perceived the Lady was winking at 
him while she said the above; but he could 
not possibly give up Horace to Qui AlihL 



129 

Emboldened by the Lady's signal, he told 
him, that perhaps as Gentlemen were not 
obliged to read so much as authors were, his 
memory might not be 

Caddy. — " O damn it, Sir, as to that, I have 
a better memoiy than any man in England ; 
and those two lines are Horace's, and I'll bett 
you fifty on't. Out he pulled a green purse, 
seemingly full of money ; which, in his 
eagerness to enforce his learning, he let fall 
upon the table, and broke a cup and saucer 
belonging to a set of French china, that had 
been presented to the lady by a former lover, 
and which she told the Gentleman, she would 
not have had destroyed for five hundred 
pounds. A strange scene of altercation en- 
sued. Reproaches rose high between them, 
until the gallant swore several of the most 
horrid oaths profaneness could suggest — that 
he would never speak to her again. — He then 
hurried out of the room, flinging the door 
after him as violently, as if, like Sampson, 
he would have shaken the house about their 
ears. 

The Lady, with a look expressive of th^ 
G5 



ISO 

most delicate sensibility, made the author 
every apology in her power. She offered him 
Caddy's full purse, which he had left on the 
table, as a small recompence for the superci- 
lious treatment he had received. But the 
poor author's mind, not labouring with the 
epidemic contagion of self-interest, but burn- 
ing with the fever of contempt, rejected the 
Peruvian dross with every grateful sense of 
the Lady's goodness. He could not but spurn 
what, when possessed by the ignorant, inso- 
lent, and unworthy, is held as the barometer 
and substitute of every virtue and talent. 



There are some'performers, who are ever 
studying to take an audience by surprise with 
introducing what they call some new stroke of 
acting. And it must be allowed some have 
successfully raised their celebrity by such en- 
deavours. It is, however, strange, that in 
this enlightened age, any mode of acting con- 
trary to the directions of the immortal bard, 



131 

Shakespeare, should ever succeed. " Suit 
the action to the word," &c. ad libitum. 

An actor at Edinburgh was remarkably 
attached to this new mode of acting. Hamlet 
being performed for a charity benefit, and 
the stage crouded by all ranks and descrip- 
tions, he, as the hero, on the appearance of 
the ghost, made his tragedy start, struck off 
his hat in a most pantomimical manner, and 
began in the usual way — 

" Angels and ministers of grace defend us." 

A Scotch pedlar, standing just behind him, 
took up his hat, saying— " Hoot awa mon ! 
donna fash your noddle ! — but keep your 
bonnet on your heed ; for gin he bee your 
faither's spirit, the ded a my saul mon, he 
wou'd na wish you to get cold, Sir." 

This so disconcerted the poor actor, that, 
instead of addressing the ghost, as he should 
have done, he turned about and fixed his eyes 
upon the pedlar— and continued — 



" Be thou a spirit or goblin damn'd," &c. 
G 6 



132 

I 1 Damn your gooblins!" said Sawney; 
" to the reeght about, raon, and mind your 
business ; for gin ye make a gooblin or a deel 
a me, the de'el dom my saul, but I'll crack 
your croon." 

Thus was the most beautiful passage of the 
play, and the pleasure of the whole enter- 
tainment destroyed by a new stroke of acting. 



It must be well known to the company 
present, that in the reign of Charles the Se- 
cond, all the heroines in tragedy and comedy 
were represented by four or five young fel- 
lows* And, strange as it may appear, it is not 
more strange than true, that about ten years 
ago, a company of itinerants were displaying 
their dramatic talents without a single female 
among them, at Camberwell, a village within 
a few miles of London. 

The play was Otway's tragedy of the 
Orphan; and, I believe, it would be difficult 
to say, whether the fair Monimia, or her 
sweetly-smiling sister-in-law, the gentle Se- 



133 

rina, was the most lusty, strapping, raw- 
boned fellow. After affecting all her airs 
and graces with every soft and moving female 
gesture, Monimia broke out— with a voice 
only fit for the monster in the Tempest — 

" Why was I born with all my sex's softness ? 
My gentle nature bears not the beating of a storm 
So rude—Castalio — Oh Castalio has undone me ! 
And my soft soul shall ne'er have comfort more." 



" If I am not ashamed of my soldiers," 
says old Jack FalstaflF describing his tatter- 
demallion troop, " I'm a sous'd gurnet." 
And, I believe, many a commander of a 
theatric troop may, with the greatest pro- 
priety, say the same; for the service is not 
only disgraced by young recruits, who never 
were sent to drill, but there are even ve- 
terans, who, having beat the march through 
many a tough campaign, deserve to be pu- 
nished for neglect of duty. 

There was a veteran in the Norwich com- 
pany, a very eccentric character, who was a 



134 

tolerable classical scholar. So proud was he 
of his literary attainments, that he embraced 
every opportunity of displaying his learning ; 
but* to his shame, he never perfectly learnt 
any of his parts. He had formerly been a 
bombardier in the train of artillery, which 
caused him to adopt, on all occasions, when 
he was deficient in his character, the phrase 
of " Blow me out of the world!" 

As he was one evening walking in the part 
of the Earl of Richmond with all his train, 
where he should have said — 

" Thus far into the bowels of the land," &c^ 

But his words were — " Thus far into the 
bowels of the earth — I say I have got thus 
far into the bowels of the earth — but — but — 
Blow me out of the world, if I can get an 
inch further." 



FalstafF having given the following disser- 
tation upon Honour, 



135 

u Well, honour pricks me on/* &c. Sec. &c, 

induces me to observe the operation of ho- 
nour on the gambler and the thief. 

The Duellists, like Jobson at Blindman's 
Buff, laying about them slap dafh, North, 
East, Weft, South on every point of the 
compass, cause honour to answer to all point /, 
and, therefore, all make a point of honour. 

Any man, who has visited Tennis Courts, 
Billiard Rooms, Horse Racing, Whist Clubs* 
Skittle Grounds, and Hazard Tables, will 
find that it is one of Honour's points to make 
it a point of honour in the loser to demand his 
money again, under the pretence of its having 
been won unfairly. And it is also a point of 
honour in the winner refusing to return it. 
Thus, those honourable Gamblers are agi- 
tated and stimulated to cut each other's throats, 
which is the dernier resort among these gentry 
for the preservation of their honour. But 
this is not to be greatly lamented as it pre- 
vents many of them from being compelled — 
by the verdict of an honest Jury, to drop their 
honour at the drop of Newgate. To those 



136 

who conceive they have received such in- 
juries as will admit of no other atonement 
than the dreadful alternative of killing or 
being killed, I would recommend the fol- 
lowing observation of a madman — " Let 
your enemies alone, and they'll die of them- 
selves." 

It has been observed, that no place in or 
out of Christendom possesses so much honour 
as the City and suburbs of London. To 
prove that London is the plenum of honour, 
what man or woman can you meet with that 
will not declare themselves to be people of 
honour? Who can you converse with, that 
will not asseverate all they say with a pledge 
of their honour ? 

The Turks, having no idea of honour or 
knowledge of duelling, must be less civilized 
than Christians ; that custom of killing in 
defencje of honour is only practised where 
the gospel is taught; and yet it must be 
known, that no vice is more deprecated by 
the tenets of the said gospel than such savage 
brutality. 

There is a part of Christendom, where the 



137 

people preserve a superior species of honour. 
In Spain, this honour is carried into the In- 
quisition, where they rack, stab, and poison, 
and all for their honour, and the glory of their 
Maker. 

The French are not much bigotted to ma- 
trimonial or religious honour. But they have 
such romantic ideas of glory, that they prefer it 
to limbs, life, and good government. In the 
madnesss of their honour, they have deluged 
their unhappy country with blood and de- 
vastation; they have taken from all reli- 
gion, and given nothing in return but the 
miserable hope of eternal sleep . 

May such honour sleep eternally, never to 
wake again ! 

1 shall endeavour to remove the melan- 
choly idea of this French honour by the fol- 
lowing whimsical anecdote. 
{ Magrah Monaghan, of Connaught* dined 
one day with Terence OHara, in the Queen's 
County. Monaghan was every inch of him 
a gentleman, and scorned to do a dirty thing. 
But as necessity and honour are ever at see- 
saw with all gentlemen of no fortunes, it hap- 



138 

pened, at that instant, Need was uppermost ', 
and gave an impelling or propelling quality to 
some of Mr. Magrah's muscles. 

Astronomers, or rather astrologers, are not 
clear enough in their accounts for us to ascer- 
tain, which of the planetary influences pre- 
dominated, so as to cause a silver spoon, be- 
fore grace after meat was said, to gravitate 
into Mr. Magrah Monaghan's pocket. Did 
we presume to astrological calculation, we 
might conjecture it was Mercury, who has 
the character of being the aider, abettor, and 
patron of thieving. However this may be, 
the spoon was missed, and his host very 
mildly taking his guest aside, whispered him — 

" My dear, will you be after telling me 
any thing of the spoon ?" 

Magrah. — " Is it the spoon you mean ? The 
devil burn me into tinder-ashes, Terence, if I 
know no more of your spoon than St. Patrick." 

Terence. — " Well, but don't you at all at all ?" 

Magrah. — " Why then, by the contents of 
this (catching up the mustard-pot as if it had 
been the Bible) I don't — Would you now be 
thinking I'd be telling you a lye?" 



139 

Terence* — " But u^onyour honour don't you ? ;j 
Magrab. — " My honour ! — By Jasus, there's 
(taking the spoon from his pocket) the va- 
gabond spoon again ! and I'll tell you one 
thing, Terence, and that ain't two, I wouldn't 
forfeit my honour for all the spoons in the 
county of Christendom." \ 

In adverting to the world at large, we find 
that the fool is played as frequently off as on 
the stage. As an instance — Suppose Simon 
Snuffle or Solomon Snort offered himself as- a 
candidate for the clerkship of a certain parish. 
Being desirous of giving a specimen of his 
abilities, he presents the parishioners with the 
following extraordinary proof of his reading 
and writing at the same time, which he de- 
clares he made exirumpery on the occasion — 
and all of his own exposing. 

" The Philistines — Sampson's enemies, 

Cut off his hair, and then peggM out his eyes! 

But David did revenge his cause, 

More than himself did do with asses jaws ; 

For with a stone no bigger than a button, 

He knocked down great Goliah dead as mutton V % 



140 

Another of the Sol Fa gentry, who seemed 
to use his nose more than his mouth, without 
the least regarding the punctuation, was scru- 
pulously attentive to stopping at the end of a 
line, although it was in the middle of a sen- 
tence. As for example — 

The following lines, although they form 
two in the column of the Psalter, should cer- 
tainly be read prosaically as one. 

" He soon will come, and he will not kqep 
silence but speak out. 

This he read as follows— 

" He soon will come, and he will not, 
Keep silence, but speak out." 



This is similar to a clergyman, who, 
being requested to solicit the prayers of 
the congregation in the following words — 
" A man going to sea, his wife desires 
the prayers of this congregation ;" said instead 
— -" A man going to see his wife, desires the 
prayers of this congregation/ ' 



141 

Another of these imperfect gentry had to 
finish the play of All for Love, or the World 
well Lost, in the character of Serapian. The 
situation of the stage was, Mark Antony on 
the one side of him, and Cleopatra on the 
other ; he should have said, 

" Now future fame posterity shall tell, 
.No couple livM so happy— died so well." 

%ut he came forward, hitching up his small 
cloaths in his usual way— and, wiping his 
nose with the back of his hand, said — " Now 
fame shall tell posterity — posterity shall tell 
fame — that fame shall tell poster ity." 

Down dropt the curtain, and thus ended 
the play. 

The same gentleman came forward to give 
out the play for the next evening. It being 
by particular desire for the benefit of the box- 
keeper, and the last night of performing in 
Camberwell this season ; which he did as 
follows. 

" Ladies and Gentlemen — above and be- 
low — to-morrow evening — no ! that's a lie ! 



142 

to morrow's Sunday — on Monday evening 
will be performed the celebrated Comedy of, of, 
of — -the Tragedy of, of, of — no ! the Opera — 
Opera — Opera of, of — the play— the play of, 
of, of — the play bills to-morrow will let you 
know all about it. 

" To which will be added, the Farce of 
the Pantomime — of the — the Entertainment — of 
what's to be done after the play; being by 
desire of the Boxkeeper, and for the benefit of 
the last season ." 



POLITICAL CLUB. 

In describing apolitical club, I shall en- 
deavour to personify the characters of a 
Baker, a Butcher, a Barber, a Taylor, a 
Grocer, an Inn-keeper, a Perfumer, and a 
Chelsea Pensioner, w r ho were all lately deeply' 
engaged in giving their sentiments of the 
state of the nation. 

The first who began was Bobby RaspaH, 
the Baker. He said, " In my opinion, the 



14 



»> 



nation is undone, like a once baked biscuit $ 
and if the people don't keep tally with Mr. 
Pitt, they are all cakes" 

Ben Knucklebone, the Butcher, observed — 
" May I never go to market again, if I don't 
think we are all a parcel of calves, or else we 
should petition the minister to knock down all 
forestalling before we were all cut up and laid 
out as dead as mutton " 

Neddy Lather em, the Barber, stated — " I 
am sure the nation was never so much in the 
suds as at present. But I suppose Billy Pitt 
means to engross all the trade of barbering 
himself, or else he would not, under the 
pretence oi powdering the hair, shave so closely 
all his Majesty's subjects." 

Tim Fit'em, the Taylor, said, — M Well, now, 
I do declare, that I think the nation is now 
come to the fag-end of its consequence. O 
that I had some of her leading ones here, I'd 
trim their jackets w T ith such a basting as they 
never had before. I'd teach 'em to take away 
the taylor's privilege of cabbaging. They 
should no longer fill their hell of a budget with 
what should feed and cloath the nation. No ! 



144 

no] I'd make 'em twist with a good measuring 
until I had suited them to their heart's 
content." 

Bob Souchong, the Tea-dealer and Grocer, 
differed from all the rest. He observed— 
44 Now I think our ministers are the best and 
wisest of mi i. Don't you think the fragrant 
odours of tea are much more wholesome and 
pleasant than the intoxicating fumes of to- 
bacco ?" 

44 No!" exclaimed Sam Shortcut, " for 
tobacco has saved the lives of thousands, 
whom tea would, otherwise, have destroyed. 
But you don't care a Jig about the nation, 
so you can get a plumb. But I'll have 
a rap at your cannister, I warrant you." 

44 No difference among gentlemen," cried 
Tom Larder, the Inn-keeper. 44 But, hear me. 
I compares the nation to a broad-wheeled 
waggon. Now, isn't it, as how, very pos- 
sible for this waggon to be over-loaded, and so 
break down ? No ! you'll say, not if it has 
an iron axle-tree. Why, you blockhead, 
won't iron and steel wear out ? Well, but 
however, if it won't break down, isn't it pos- 



145 

sible, from the neglect of the driver, it may 
tumble into a Pit ? Now, how are you, in 
that case, to get it out of this Pit? You 
don't know — 1 know you don't know ; for if 
you did, you'd be as cunning as a Fox." 

Matty Mareschal, the Perfumer, being more 
deeply affected by the powder tax than any 
Barber could possibly be, could not avoid 
giving his sentiments on the present occasion. 
*! I think," said he, "the nation was never 
so dressed as it has been since Pitt taxed the 
use of powder. What could be his antipathy 
to our white and brown powder ? They never 
killed, like his battle powder, thousands by 
thousands. If he had meant to have served 
his country, he would have taxed the use of 
gun-powder, w r hich would have saved, not 
only the money — but the lives of the people.'* 

" Hold, hold," said a Ghelsea veteran. 
" What ! tax gun-powder ? Honour and 
glory forbid ! No ! let us have gun-powder 
free, while we have a soldier or a sailor to use 
it in defence of his countrv." 



H 






146 

I have frequently heard a man harangue 
for several minutes with great good sense, and 
in words well chosen, and worthy to be read, 
and reduced to writing. But all this excel- 
lence was lost upon the generality of his au- 
ditors, who were disgusted by his insipidity of 
n- -nner, and his voice being strongly affected 
by a provincial dialect. This has convinced 
me of the absolute necessity there is of every 
person endeavouring to correct, as much as 
possible, whatever provincial dialect it may 
have been their misfortune to have contracted. 
If this be neglected, the best arguments, de- 
livered with such a perversion of tone, will 
lose their effect, while the speaker is exposed 
to ridicule and laughter. 

A speech delivered in a strong northern 
dialect, will sufficiently evince the truth of 
this assertion. I shall, therefore, proceed to 
my example, by giving a short panegyric on 
the art and science of eloquence, in the true 
Scots style. 

" The topic I presume to haundle, is the 
mirawculous gifts of an orator, wha, by the 
bare power of his words, leads men, women, 



ur 

and bairns, as he lists ; and first, for the an- 
tiquity of the art, ken ye, wha was the first 
orator ? Mayhap ye think it was Tully, the 
Latinist ? Nae such thing — ye are wide 
o'th'mark ; or Demosthenes the Greek ? In 
gude troth ye are as far off as before. Wha 
was it then ? It was een that arch cheeld the 
deevil himself. Ye ken weel how Adam and 
Eve were planted in Eden with plenty 
o'bannocks and cail, and aw that they wished ; 
hut were prohibited the eating of pepins, upon 
which, what does me, the orator, Satan, but 
he whispers a soft speech in her lug ; egad, 
our granam, Eve, fell-to in an instant, and 
eat a pepin without staying to pare it. Ken 
ye, wha was the first orator now ?" 



Pronouncing words entirely different from 
their spelling, in conformity to the native 
dialect of the speaker, is such a shameful abuse 
of language as should always be discouraged. 
And a person attempting to address an au- 
dience with such a dialect as just recited, will 
H2 



148 

appear almost as ridiculous as the fool who 
cut off a fellow's head that lay asleep, and 
then waited to hear what he would say when 
he awoke and missed it ; or as laughable as 
the poor lame dancing-master, who thought 
himself particularly entitled to the encourage- 
ment of the public in his profession, for no 
other reason than his having lost a leg : the 
town pitied his misfortune, while they laughed 
at the absurdity of Mr. Caper's expectations ; 
which afforded no little entertainment to the 
groaners and the grinners. And thus it is, 
that some cry while others laugh at the times. 
Old people praise the time past, which they 
neglected to use when they might. Young 
people look forward with anxious care to the 
time to come, neglecting the present. Indeed 
almost every person treats the present time as 
some folks do their wives-— with indifference, 
in order to possess their affections more se- 
curely. 

As I mean not to confine my observations 
to one particular dialect, and resolving to 
divest myself of partiality, I shall now pre- 
sent you with the oratory of a Cockney* 



149 

" As I vas going along, thinking of no- 
thing at all, I thought as how as I heard a face 
and saw a woice that I knew, and it vas Mr. 
Spriggins ; and Mr. Spriggins said as how- 
werily he did think that weal was better eating 
than wenson. To be sure weal is very good 
in its kind. — But, Mr. Spriggins, says I, gi' 
me wenson — gi' me wenson, says I, Mr. Sprig- 
gins ; for my part, I'm wastly fond of wenson ; 
for vhat can be more betterer, or more properer, 
Eh ? I wow its the wery best of whittles , isn't it, 
eh ? — and for a man for to come, for to go, for 
to say as how weal vas betterer than wenson, is 
certainly wery monstrous, and wold of all 
reason ; isn't it, eh ? He might as veil say, 
wue ought to be zvalued above wirtue, or that 
vawnuts could be pickled_ without winegar. 
Mightn't he, eh ? I axt him, says I, d'ye 
think vine is'nt better than vaier ? I axt him, 
says I, d'ye think cowcomers good vithoui 
inyons ? — and so he giv'd me sich oiit-ofthe 
vay answers, that I told him, says I, Mr. 
Spriggins, you werily deserve to be pelted 
with brick-bracks, and rolled in the kindle, 
says I, till you are as black as a chimney- 
H 3 
























150 

sweeper, says I, as a wawnlng for windicating 
sich an eupinion. I vas right, vasn't I, eh ?-— 
And so then he tawked about sumat about being 
scrowdgd and squeedgd by a mob in the Vitson 
veei, and this here and that there, and things 
of that there kind ; and so he vanted me to 
fetch a vaulk as far as the PH's in Common 
Garden. But, says I, Mr. Spriggins, says I, 
you are a wile, vorthless, wapid feller, says I, 
and so I don't vant no more conwersation, says 
I, vith a person that don't know common 
sense, and that is as ignorant as the wery com- 
monist of wretches with their breakfastes and 
toasteses, and running their heads against the 
posteses, to awoid the wild beast eses." 



I'm told that a member of the Quorum in 
Cumberland, who was the veiy mouth-piece 
of eloquence in his own country, when he went 
up to London, enquired at a shoemaker's shop 
in Cranbourn Alley, if he could not meet 
with a pair of small shoes for his little girl in 
the country, with pink heels, pointed toes, and 



151 

crept straps for clasps y which he expressed in 
the following provincial dialect. 

" I pray yee noo, han yee gatten any neatly, 
fe tly shoen, poainted toen, pink'd at heel 
and cropped strops for clopses ?" 

M Sir," answered the shopkeeper, " what's 
that you say?' ' 

M Why, Iprayyeenoo," [repeats as before. ~\ 

" The family who speaks French,' ' said the 
shoemaker, " lives at the next door." And 
so they parted, understanding one another 
just as well as if one came from Greenland 
and the other from Grand Cairo." 



But of all the ignoramusses breathing, those 
in the Weft country exceed all belief. As a 
proof, I have to mention the uncommon igno- 
ranee of a collier, who had never been but 
once over the threshold of a door since his 
baptism ; and this visit was accidentally caus r 
ed by a shower of rain obliging him to seek 
shelter there. It was in Bristol, and during 
the time of divine service. The heathenish 
H 4 






152 

boor returning home, thus told his brother 
clods what he had heard and seen : 

" I have been in a place where I never was 
before, and where I never design to be again ; 
for there I zaw twelve vellows coek'd up in a 
sort of hay -loft, shouting and zinging away 
for dear life. I ax'd 'em if they had got any 
thing to drink there — and a zort of a dog- 
whipping vellow came up to me with a zwitch 
in his hand, and told me in a huff, I could 
get nothing to drink there. How dost know 
that ? says I — thee beest not land-lord — beest 
thee ? So then he took my hat off my head. 
Dang it, I had a great mind to a given un 
a douse o'th' chops, and zet un a spinning 
like a whirligigg. But I thought I wouldn't 
kick up a doust. Zo I went a little varther, 
and I zaw a zet of men and women penn'd up 
together like zo many ewes and wethers at a 
vair. In the middle of 'urn there was a 
little mon lock'd up in a tub — a was, as true 
as I'm a living zoul of a zinner, lock'd up in 
a tub breast high, with a shirt as black as a 
coal, and a little white zlobbering bib, slit in 
two, and stuck under his chin. Turning up 



153 

his eyes, he prayed away to be delivered. 
Below there zat a little mon mocking of 'un ; 
for whatever one said t'other said too. By 
and bye, the little man in a black shirt pull'd 
it off, and then there was another as white as 
a clout — and then with a twist of his wristippes, 
he opened the tub and came down, and took 
a little baby out of a woman's arms, and car- 
ried it to a zort of a hog trow, and splashed 
his vace over and over again with cold water. 
Dangit, thinks I, who knows where this frolick 
may end? Mayhap, if the maggot bites, 
they'll duck me too, and zo I took to my 
heels and scampered away. And if they do 
catch I within zide of a church again, I'll 
give 'urn leave to zous and zop me o'er and 
o'er again." — This was all the idea a West 
country collier had of a church. 



I shall now proceed to a short dissertation 
on the anatomy of phantoms. 

Rondocosto Ramlu Danesso, in his defence 
of preter-naturals and non-naturals, very wise- 
H 5 



154* 

]y tells us that there are some very famous, and 
what is more, very great, and what is more, 
very rich people, who are undetermined whe- 
ther ghosts are apparitions or apparitions 
ghosts — whether death-watches, dreams, night. 
riiares, witchcraft, falling stars, screech-owls, 
and religion, have or have not reality. To 
such is submitted the following lusitorise. Any 
analysis, solution, and dissection of phantoms, 
is recommended to be carefully studied, by 
out-of-pension patriots, fourth and fifth cou- 
zens to persons of fortune and quality, and 
all dependents on great mens* generosity, or 
any man's gratitude. 

Suppose a Genius situated pennyless in 
America, and ardently wishing to revisit his 
native home, who is it will pilot him across 
the Atlantic ? 

" I, I, I, I will—we all will, every body 
will — any body will take him on board, and 
be glad to sail with him ; for all the world will 
be fond of his company ; — who denies it ?" 

" But, pray, Sir, when the vessel comes 
to port, who will help him out of the ship ? 
Who will pay the captain for his passage ?" 



155 

However diverting, during the voyage, 
this droll fellow may have been, and whatever 
applauses he may have received, with invita- 
tions to every one's mess while on board, the 
anchor is no sooner dropped than all is for- 
gotten. 

All are then hurrying home about their re- 
spective concerns, wives, sweethearts, fami- 
lies, friends, acquaintances, or correspon- 
dencies. The general cry is, " Adieu, Mr. 
Genius — your servant, Mr. Genius — here, 
Tom, put these things behind the post-chaise ; 
we are obliged to you for your good company, 
Mr. Genius — sorry we can't stay with you 
any longer. — Go on, boy. A very diverting 
creature that man was, my Lord." " Yes," 
answers the man of title, " these wits and 
drolls are very well for a gentleman to be en- 
tertained with, now and then, at taverns or on 
shipboard ; but they should not be noticed 
publicly— for they are always poor — know no- 
thing of the world, and are rather impertinent." 

The deserted Genius, pennyless, and a 
stranger, is left upon the beach, to make the 
best of his way— where he can. 
H6 






156 

Supposing him arrived in London, he must 
either prostitute his talents in vindicating vil- 
lainy, or condescend to be Folly's auditor, 
Pride's flatterer— or a beggar. 

These honourable avocations indicate that 
hope and promise are included in our disserta- 
tion upon phantoms. 

Our Genius being driven by necessity to 
choose immediately his profession, turned 
Pension or Place Fisher, alias Political Writer. 

In the political science of perspective, 
the point of sight, point of distance, and 
vanishing line, properly investigated, are as 
follow : 

The point of sight is preferment. 

The point of distance is, what length your 
patron will go to serve you, and what length 
you must goto serve him. 

The vanishing line is hope. 

All these, multiplied in a proper modus, 
form Mr. Hogarth's line of Beauty. 

To return to our Genius. His understand- 
ing was clear, ripe, and strong, id* est, clear 
enough to distinguish his own interest ; ripe 
enough to be ready for any dirty work ; and 



157 

strong enough to counteract the bias of those 
beggar-making bubbles of public spirit, love, 
gratitude, friendship, or patriotism. He con- 
sidered such as only tubs to be tossed out to 
the whale, which the hydra-mob ridiculously 
say is composed of the harmonies and sym- 
phonies of the soul. 

Reflecting that he was liable to a sudden 
change of circumstances, either adverse or 
prosperous, he was always dreaming of a 
chariot or the pillory as particular exaltations, 
to which he knew authors had arisen. Indeed, 
he well knew, that they had been bestowed 
upon different persons very often for the same 
action. No man was, therefore, equal to him 
for deifying the ins, or devilizing the outs. 
For preferment, his pen waged war against 
the latter. Through the field of faction, he 
fought blushless for the ins. Venality 
crowned his temples with a brazen frontlet, 
and, trampling over Modesty, she led him to 
the shrine of secret services. 

A Prime-Minister, who has always a 
number of these servants of honour to pro- 
vide for, is obliged, when no more vacancies 



158 

can be made, to create new places. Fortu- 
nately for this Genius, the vicissitudes of the 
times impelled the Minister to levy new taxes ; 
and, as the cream of all taxes, a tax was laid 
upon milk, and this Genius was accordingly 
made Inspector General of the Milk Office, 
to which the following necessary subordinates 
were appointed, 

24 Tasters,. 

6 Clerks, 

4 Porters, 

1 Gaugtfr, 

1 Secretary, and 
A Deputy. 

To these may be added the Company of 
Assistants, composed of 

2 Apothecaries, 

2 Dairy Women, 

2 Experimental Philosophers, 

1 Butter Melter, 

2 Spectacle Makers, 
2 Wet Nurses, 

1 Clyster-pipe Borer, and 

2 Curds-and-Whey Keepers. 
These only added the number of fifty to 

the Minister** dependents. But as there was 



159 

a clause in the act to prevent the mixing of 
water with milk, that very nutritious food 
was rendered as dear in proportion as any other 
article of our subsistence. The Genius, it 
is said, is now writing a pamphlet to prove, 
that mare's milk may be substituted instead of 
cows' ; that all our porter may be brewed from 
oatmeal ; and that hore-flesh is more whole- 
some than roast beef. 



Ancient history relates, that Zeuxis, a ce- 
lebrated painter of Heraclea, died of a fit 
of laughter at the sight of an old woman of 
his own drawing. But for people to be 
ready to expire with laughing, at their own 
conceits and expressions, we have innu- 
merable modern instances. 

M Hah ! hah! hah! hah! hah !— I'll tell you 
what I laugh at. I said the best thing t'other 
day, that you ever heard, hah! hah! hah! — 
says I to my brother — only mind — Hah! hah ! 
hah! — I says," says I, " I saw a most terrible 
wind y ester day"—" Saw a wind!" says my 



160 

Irother — ".'tis the first time I ever heard of a 
wind being seen;" Hah! ha! hah! and so, 
says he, Hah! hah! hah! "Pray, if you did 
see the wind, what was it like ?" " What was 
it like? Hah! hah! hah !-— now mind — Hah! 
hah! hah! "What was it like?" says I — 
" Aye, what was it like," says he — " Why 
it was like to blow my house down," says I 
— " Hah! hah! hah! hah! oh! oh! oh!" 

These giggling, smiling, tittering, grinning, 
risible gentry, when in company with a man 
of genuine wit and humour, continually tease 
him to be comical. They address him in this 
manner — 

" Come now, do tell us something droll 
to make us all laugh, will you ? Damn it, I 
tell you what let's play at — To market, my 
Lord — will you ? That's right. — I'll be my 
Lord — and your name shall be Cockles — your's 
Pork Griskin— your's Sparrowgrass — your's 
John Dory — and your's Mutton Chops, tol der 
er lol te ti te te you — Now mind — When my 
hat's on — I'm my Lady; and when it's off, 
I'm my Lord — and for every mistake, a half 
pint bumper, or a black face." 



161 

Having thus diverted himself for some 
time, and being obliged to swallow several 
half pints, through his frequent mistakes at 
the enchanting games of the 

Dumb Conceit, 

To Market, my Lord, 

Questions and Commands, 

Hot Cockles, 

Alphabetical Toasts, 

Dutch Club, 

Hiding the horse, 

What's my thought like, and 

Buzz r 
he is led home with his face blacked, to- 
tally insensible, and put to bed to his wife ; 
who, viewing him the next morning, com- 
plains, and frequently gives the following 
hints — 

Somebody, 

Some people, and 

Other people. 

" I'm sure if some people go on r in this 

manner, somebody will suffer for it — Some people 

never know what time to come home, and 

other people must be disturbed by some people 



J ©2 

at all hours of the night — That ii some people 
have no more sense than to suffer their faces 
to be blacked, other people may be ashamed of 
such a scandalous behaviour — and that some 
people should be glad to be informed by some- 
body"— 

" Lord, my dear/' says the husband, " it 
was nobody" 

There are no words more frequently used 
than 

Somebody, 
Nobody, 
Any body, and 
Every body. 
These terms somebody** pleased to introduce 
very often in conversation, which offends 
nobody ; and as any body has an undoubted right 
to the same, every body uses them. 

Many frequently express themselves on se- 
veral occasions in this manner — 

Dev'lish handome — Dev'lish ugly, 
Hellish rich — Hellish poor, 
Dev'lish cold — Dev'lish hot, 
It freezes like hell — 
It rains like the devil ! 



163 

But as the devil is not the most desirable 
subject, I shall leave him, and proceed to the 
conversation of the fair-sex. 

The first claiming attention, is the Ladies 
of high birth and great distinction, whose 
conversation consists in absurdly shortening 
their words ; thus, they say 

Poz for positively, and 
Plenipo for Plenipotentiary. 
While, on the contrary, Lady Rachael, Lady 
Caroline, and Lady Betty are trespassing fre* 
quently on the confines of their native Ian- 
guage, by making a single word answer the 
purpose of two. They tell us — 

They caarit — and they shaant — and they 
maant. 

But what our language loses by these 
word-droppers, plain Nan and Sal and Moll, 
of Billingsgate, endeavour to compensate by 
adding supernumerary syllables, when they 
talk of — 

Fisheses and placeses, and running their 
noseses against the posteses. 



164 

Among the various classes of oratory with 
which this kingdom abounds, there is pne 
that particularly delights every merry party ; I 
mean Anecdote Orators. 

One of these, without ever delivering a sen- 
timent of his own, or entering into any dis- 
pute or controversy, sits in a corner of the 
room with his wig reversed and a steady face, 
silent as a quaker unmoved by the spirit of a 
hum-drum meeting, until the subject will 
admit of an anecdote, which he relates with 
the gravity of a Methodist. 

Suppose Elections form the subject, he will 
tell— That 

" Puts me in mind of a circumstance, 
which happened at the long contested elec- 
tion at Bristol, of a poor Barber, who, having 
given his vote, incurred the malicious resent- 
ment of some of the opposite party ; for they 
broke all his shop -windows, and the poor 
fellow, being unable to pay for the glazing of 
them again, papered every square. 

" The next morning a sailor ran his head 
through one of the squares, and asked, Is the 
Barber at home ? The Barber running, at the 



165 

same time, his head through another of the 
paper squares, cried — " No — he's just gone 
out. 

Should the town-crier give some necessary 
information to the public, this Anecdote- 
monger will tell you, that he heard a crier in 
a country town thus deliver himself: — 

" O yes! O yes! O yes! — this is to give 
notice, that on Thursday last, between the 
hours of three and five in the afternoon, there 
was lost a little black dog, all over large white 
spots, with long cr opt ears, a thin bujhy tail, and 
answers to the name of Trip. Whoever 
will bring him to the Crier fhall have half 
a guinea reward — God save the King. — I for- 
got to tell you he has got the mange.' ' 

The next morning a fellow meeting this 
puppy-hunter, afked him why he did not 
cry ? 

"I can't," says he, " my wife's dead! — 
befide, I'm afraid of waking her." 

To give a proper explanation of Anecdote 
Oratory : — " I most humbly beg leave, with 
all proper respect — taking particular care, at 
the same time, to avoid all expressions that 



166 

may seem to border on prolixity, and which 
are diametrically oppofite to conciseness, 
clearness, and perspicuity ; I say, with proper 
respect, I must inform you — hoping your 
good nature will excuse my running into art 
error which is deserving the mimic's notice 
and my scourge ; but as I love brevity to my 
heart, I fhall not, as many speakers do, keep 
you in suspense with a tedious narration of 
circumstances, which, to my certain know- 
ledge, were better omitted in toto than recited 
ad libitum* Therefore, as I particularly mean 
to come, without any perambulation, to the 
point at once, I must tell you the anecdote 
just now related, which anecdote is, by no 
manner of means, an anecdote fimilar to the 
Crier's anecdote, farther than its being an 
anecdote, or perhaps oddity and ridicule upon 
those who are for ever talking without saying 
any thing, by using phrases entirely foreign 
to the meaning and nature of the subject in 
hand of which they are speaking." 

This preamble I hope, at the same time 
that it leads me to mention an absurdity, will 
be received as a satire on prolixity, by my 



167 

having used two hundred words instead of 
these nine, — videlicet — 

The anecdote of the Crier reminds me of 
one. One man was saying to another, the 
other day, crossing a field, I saw a bull come 
running after me like hell; I ran away like 
thunder; and as I was endeavouring to get 
over a stile, I tore my stockings as if heaven 
and earth were coming together. 



A certain gravity of countenance consi- 
derably improves the telling of these stories- 
But this must not be adopted as a general 
rule ; for it is frequently necessary to aid a 
humorous story with chearful looks and ac- 
cordant gestures. 

As much depends upon the expression as 
the words themselves. Whatever nature pro- 
duces, art can always embellish. This caused 
Cicero justly to observe, that address in speak- 
ing was as highly ornamental as it was useful 
in private life. 



168 

How often have I seen a public speaker 
roll liis* £yes along the cieling as if he thought 
hiffls*elf in duty bound to take care how the 
flies behaved. 

Another casts his eyes upon the ground, as 
if he w€ie before a judge, receiving sentence 
of death. 

The misapplication of the arms is as preva- 
lent as that of .the eyes ; for I have seen a 
speaker pulling at the wristband of his shirt 
all the time he was speaking. 

I have observed another diving his hand to 
the bottom of his pocket, as if he were iri 
search of something. 

As some speakers cannot express their sen- 
timents with the use even of both arms, how 
difficult must he find it who has only one ! 

In such a situation I once saw an itinerant 
barn-door actor, who attempted the part of 
Richard the Third. This poor fellow had only 
the use of the right arm ; for the left was, un- 
fortunately for him, withered, which he took 
the greatest care to place behind him, before 
he came on the stage, as if he dreaded it woul 



169 

embarrass the action of the other. But, every 
time he exerted his voice, he shook the 
withered arm out of its place. Thus he 
began : 

" Now are our bows bound with victorious wreaths, 
Our stern alarms changed to merry meetings — 
Grim-visagM War hath smooth* d his wrinkled front/ 

In this manner he went on. The audience, 
however they might pity the misfortune of the 
man, could not avoid laughing at the whim- 
sical effect it produced in the actor. 

This performer was as singular off, as he was 
on the stage. He greatly valued himself on 
an affected peculiarity of pronunciation. So 
nice was he in his endeavours to display the 
sense of his author with every critical minutiae, 
that he never exceeded or added either in a 
laugh, cry, or grunt. Whenever he voci- 
ferated, ha, ha, ha ! you might be certain he 
had sufficient authority from his author, whom 
he never injured by applying Ha, ha, ha! for 
He, he, he ! A waterman rowing him across 
the river one day* struck up— 
I 



170 

Bacon, beaas, salt beef, and cabbage. 
Bacon, beans, salt beef, and cabbage* 
Butter-milk and oaten bread 5 
Fol der iddle lol, fol der iddle lof, 
Follol, der iddle iddle, fol, lol, lol. 

" Sir," says he, "it is not, fol der iddle 
lol." 

" Vhy, vhat is it then, my master t 

" Why, it is fa, la, ra, da." 

" Vhy how should I know that, my mas- 
ter?" 

" Read the book, Sir,"— [5/^.] 



Some men speak before they think ; others 
tediously study every word they utter. 
Some men are mute, from having nothing 
to say ; some should be mute, because 
they say nothing to the purpose. Some 
men say nothing to their wives, and others 
would be extremely happy if their wives said 
nothing to them. 

There are a set of persons who continually 



171 

ransack a dictionary to puzzle their friends at 
night, and to pass for men of learning, by 
using obsolete words and technical terms, 
which they frequently misapply, to the ex- 
posure of themselves and the diversion of their 
hearers. 

One ofxhese word-grubbers was informed 
by a friend, that a certain unpopular nobleman 
had fallen from his horse, and received a 
severe bhw in his stomachy which, it was 
thought » would cause a gathering. This 
valuable piece of news he immediately carried 
to the Barber's shop, with a very unnecessary 
alteration of language ; for this dealer in hard 
words said, that his lordship, in the fall, had 
received a contusion in his abdominal parts, and 
'twas thought 'twould occasion an abcess* 
Friend Razor was not long possessed of the 
learned information before a customer came 
to be shaved* The towel was scarcely tucked 
under his chin, and my friend Razor employ, 
ed in beating up a lather, when the usua) 
question of what news ? was asked. " News !'* 
says Razor, " why aint you heard the story 
about Lord Squanderstock?" " No," an- 
I 2 



172 

swered the other. "No!" said Razor in 
surprise ; " why he fell from his horse yes- 
terday, and received such a confusion in his 
abo?ninable parts, that 'tis thought 'twill occa- 
sion his absence. 

This learned and elegant information of 
woi;d-grubber, or walking dictionary, might 
havd come, with propriety, from the mouth 
of one apothecary to another ; but it was 
very unsuitable to the capacity of a common 
shaver, whose utmost extent of language con- 
sists iri uttering, in a plain,; simple manner, 
the news of the day, and declaring he can 
weave " seven pair in an hour, twice in for a 
cut. 

But, as a contrast to the Barber, the Apothe- 
cary will tell you that he is erudite enough to 
pill, bolus, lotion, potion, draught, drench, 
dose, bleed, blister, glister, cup, scarify, 
syringe, salivate, couch, sweat, diet, dilute, 
tap, plaster, and poultice, all persons, in all 
diseases, and in all conditions. 

The Barber improves our outward appear- 
ance ; the Apothecary does, or ought to do, 
the same. The Apothecary gives you pow- 



173 

ders, and the Barber powders you. The Bar- 
ber may be known, by his smart look and 
tripping gait ; the Apothecary is known by his 
sober pace and grave physiognomy. The 
Barber plasters your head when it is whole, and 
the Apothecary when it is broken. The Barber 
often revives a Wig, and the Apothecary 
sometimes kills a Tory. The Apothecary is the 
servant of Esculapius, and the Barber of 
Venus, whom he often prepares for her ap- 
pearance at the Pantheon. The Apothecary 
derives his art from Apollo ; he therefore ex~ 
ercises it on a Sunday ; and the Barber makes 
no difficulty of doing the same. 



Comparisons, when properly formed, aptJv 
applied, and judiciously used, elevate the most 
eminent species of literature. But when they 
are vulgarly chosen, and indiscreetly applied, 
they degenerate, like conundrums or puns, 
into conceit and bastard wit. They, however, 
tend to promote conviviality and good humour, 
and, without good humour, Virtue may awe 
I 3 



174 

by its dignity, and amaze by its splendour ; 
but it will scarcely ever gain a proselyte or 
attract an imitator. 

It is remarked by Prince Henry, when he 
sees Falstaff lying on the ground, that he 
could have better spared a better man. He was 
well acquainted with the vices and follies of 
him whom he lamented ; but, while conviction 
compelled him to do justice to his superior 
qualities, his tenderness still broke forth at 
the remembrance of FalstafF, of the cheerful 
companion, the loud buffoon, with whom he 
had passed his time in all the luxury of idle- 
ness, and who had cheered him with unre- 
served merriment, which he enjoyed, while 
he despised his sensuality and cowardice. 

Many, who are incapable of attaining any 
general character for excellence, possess some 
singularity of entertainment which serves 
them as a passport through life. 

I have known one, the darling of a weekly 
club, from singing every night at eleven o'clock, 
precisely, his favourite song — 

Did you not hear of Johnny Pringle's pig ? 
When it was alive, it wasn't very big * 



175 

If it were alive, why then you might see, 

Betsy Pringle, Johnny Pringle, and poor Piggy.* 

Betsy Pringle laid her down and cried, 
Johnny Pringle laid him down and died ; 
There was an end of one, two, and three, 
Betsy Pringle, Johnny Pringle, and poor Piggy. 

I have known a person endear himself to a 
long succession of acquaintance by mimick- 
ing Punch and his wife Joan. [Imitate Punch. 
Another proved himself the same good 
fortune, by playing on the mock bassoon. 

[Imitate the tune of a Busy Humble Bee* 
Another is reckoned a droll devil, or a droll 
fish, for imitating sawing. 

[Imitate the sound of sawing. 

The amorous parley of two intriguing cats 

in a gutter, has been a very recommendatory 

performance. According to this imitation, 

the gentleman thus addresses the lady : 

" Moll— Moll-row. Moll-row." 

Now the Lady. 
" Cur-well, cur-well, cur-well." 
Now the Gentleman. 

" Cur, you love me ? Cur, you love me ?" 
14 



J 76 

Now the Lady. 
No cur no, cur no." 

Now the Catastrophe. 
Hoo, hoo— oh, you whore. 5 * 

\Imiiafe fighting. 



THE LONDON CRIES 

Have carried many a man through life, with 
the character of a pleasing companion, 

" Come, Mr; Tompkins, do pray oblige us 
with the London Cries." be \ 

" I Will, I will. 

Weep! Weep I Sweep, sweep, soot oh! 

Dust, oh! Dust, oh ! 

Hot cross buns, one a penny buns, two a 
penny, one a penny — two a penny, hot cross 
buns ! 

Cloaths, cloaths!. Any old cloaths! 

Hot spice gingerrbread, hot I Come, buy 
my spice ginger-bread, smoaking hot ! 

Fire stone cheeks for your stoves ! 

A long tail'd pig, or a short taiPd pig, or a 



177 

pig without e'er a tail ! A aow pig, or a boar 
pig, or a pig with a curling tail ! 

Buy a Dutch loaf for a pudding ! 

Any knives, scissars^ or razors to grind ! 

Matches, matches, come buy them of me, 
They are the best matches that ever you see ; 
For lighting a candle, or kindling a fire, 
They are the best mat ehea that you can desire ; 
I sell my matches as far as Bloomsbury square, 
God bless the Duke of Bedford, for he lives 

there ; 
I sell my matches as far as Charing Cross, 
God bless the man upon the black horse; 
I sell my matches as far as Whitehall^ 
God bless the King and the noblemen ail.". 

Come, buy my water- cresses, nice young 
water-cresses. 

Ground ivy, ground ivy ; come, buy my 
ground ivy. 

Singing birds ! — Singing Birds! 

The last dying speech and confession, both 

parentage and education, life, character, and 

behaviour, of the five malefactors that were 

executed this morning at Newgate ! 

15 



178 

Two full pound for two-pence, Oh rare 
potatoes ! Oh rare potatoes ! 

Any broken bottles for a poor old woman 
to-day ? 
i Come, my soul, will you buy a bowl ? 

I'm just come from the Borough, 

Will you buy a wooden stirrer ? 

Sand ho ! Sand oh ! my lilly white sand oh ! 
Mistress, do you want any to-day ? 

She answers. Ha ! what's that you say ? 

Sandman. D'ye want any sand to-day ? 

Mistress. No ! I don't want any to-day. 

Sandman. Get along ye — whoa ball ; keep 
the blind horse out of the kindle there, whoa ! 

Want a horse for your cloaths ? Want a 
horse for your cloaths ? 

Past twelve o'clock ! Past twelve o'clock ! 
Hu, hu ! Look up young man and see if the 
pin of that window is fastened ; past twelve 
o'clock, and a cloudy morning ! 



Such are the innocent means of promoting 



179 

chearfulness and cementing friendship, and 
which should never be despised or rigorously 
censured, unless they are practised to abash 
Innocence or promote Depravity ; for mankind 
require diversity of entertainment to chear 
the tedious sameness that would otherwise 
render our existence a burthen, instead of a 
blessing. As the individuals forming the mass 
of human nature possess different tastes and 
inclinations, multifarious entertainments are 
as essential as the many different avocations 
they are obliged to adopt for subsistence. A 
nation, therefore, formed upon an equality of 
manners, is such a solecism in the philosophy 
of man, as is equally irreconcilable to reason 
and possibility. 

In speaking of variety, let us advert to 
news-papers, which form a most whimsical 
and laughable example of the various vicissi- 
tudes and employments of man. Indeed, a 
news-paper may be justly termed a microcosm, 
or the world in miniature. 

In one place, we find the victory of a 
general ; in another, we observe the desertion 
of .a private soldier. A man that is too little 
I 6 



180 

for a Gazette, may easily creep into an ad* 
vertisement ; thus we frequently see, in the 
same paper, an Apothecary with a Plenipoten- 
tiary, and a Footman with an Ambassador. An 
advertisement from Piccadilly, goes down the 
current of time, with an article from Madrid, 
and John the Painter is mentioned in the same 
paper with the Emperor of Germany. 

Another use to which these diurnal publi- 
cations have been devoted of late years, has 
been the admission of every species of con- 
troversy. So great a portion of a news-paper 
has been allotted for this purpose, that ttfe 
chief part of advertisements are entiffely v |)6- 
lemical. The inventors of Razor Strops hav^e 
written against each other with great bitterness. 
1 need not mention the venders of some! bf 
the Patent Medicines ; nor notice the Dili- 
gences, Flying Machines, and Post Caaches, 
together with a hard struggle for the saving 
half a quarter of a mile, in the road betw6«i 
Bath and London. 

The third and last use of these writings fs, 
to inform the world where they may i>e fur- 
nished with almost every necessary in life. 



181 

Should a man have pains in his head and spots 
on his cloaths, he may here be informed of 
proper cures and remedies. Would a man 
recover a wife, or a horse that is stolen or 
strayed; if he wants new sermons, electua- 
ries, asses milk, or any thing else, either for 
his body or his mind, this is the place to look 
for them. Being on this topic, I must not 
omit reciting an advertisement which lately 
appeared in one of our news-papers. It was 
as follows: 

" Wanted for a family, who have bad 
health, a sober, steady person, in the capa- 
city of doctor, surgeon, apothecary, and 
man* J»id wife. He must occasionally act in 
the capacity of butler, and dress hair and 
wigs. He will be required to read prayers 
occasionally, and to preach a sermon every 
Sunday. The reason of this advertisement is, 
that the family cannot any longer afford the 
expences of the physical tribe, andwishtobe 
at a certain expence for their bodies and souls. 
A good salary will be given. 

'* Enquire for W. D. at the Pine-Apple, 
Orchard Street, 



182 

M N. B. He will be at liberty to turn a penny 

in any of his professions when not wanted 

in the family." 

A collection of advertisements is a kiad of 
miscellany ; the writers of which, contrary to 
all authors, give money to those who publish 
their copies. The genius of the publisher is 
chiefly displayed by his method of arranging 
and digesting their little tracts ; the last paper 
I met with places them in the following 
order — 

Shining Liquid Blacking for Shoes. 

The Beautifying Cream for the Face. 

A New and Complete System of Geography. 

The Bath Sun- Fire Office. 

To be Sold, by Private Contract, a Freehold* 

Wants a Place, a middle-aged Woman. 

Shoes and Boots. 

The Present State of America. 

English Coffee. 

Corn Salve. 

Lloyd's Wax and Spermaceti Warehouse-; 
and, 

Bell's Edition of Shakespeare. 



183 

Describing the humours and manners of 
the age we live in has always been considered 
useful and entertaining. No country pos- 
sesses more singular people than England, 
where a merit, if not a virtue, is made of a 
peculiarity of character. And such is the 
natural independency of their temper, that 
every person is proud of living agreeably to 
his own fancy. I have known a muff, or a 
head-dress become a solid blessing or mis- 
fortune. A lap-dog has broken the hearts of 
thousands. How frequently has a lady been 
thrown into a fit by a neglect at a ball or an 
assembly! Flavia has kept her chamber ever 
since the last masquerade, and is in greater 
danger of her life from being left out of it 
than Clarinda is, from the violent cold she 
caught in it. Nor are these dear creatures 
the only sufferers by such imaginary cala* 
mities : many an author has been dejected at 
the censure of an idiot; and as many heroes 
have been thrown into a fit of melancholy by 
the rabble hooting him as he passed through 
the streets. A runing horse is a source of 
happiness to one, wjaiie a gilded chariot, a 



1$4 

sword-knot, or a tulip, form the summum 
bonum of others. But as it would be endless 
to enumerate all the fantastical oddities in 
this kingdom, I shall conclude this part with 
displaying a few of them. 

The unwearied application which an En- 
glishman gives to a favourite study is incre- 
dible : every other idea is nearly absorbed by 
what he is pursuing. This creates that ab- 
straction of the mind which is more frequently 
seen in mental absences in this country than 
in any other. 

Dick Shatterbrain, having purchased a se- 
cond-hand coat at one of the old eloaths shops 
in Monmouth-street, observed, at the next 
door, a butcher's shop, and being desirous of 
keeping the wind out of his stomach, as well 
as from his back .and shoulders, asked the 
price of a leg of mutton, which the butcher 
told him was two and three-pence. * 4 Two 
shillings and three-pence !" echoed Dick; 
*' why sure, my worthy friend, you must 
have lost your senses. Two shillings and 
three-pence for that leg of muttQn, why I can 
buy a new one for that price." 



185 

Demogritus, who was one of those phi- 
losophers, who thought all things depended 
upon chance and atoms, and laughed at hu- 
man weakness and vanity, was so weak and 
vain himself as to put out his eyes, that he 
might have the reputation of philosophizing 
more profoundly than any of his predecessors 
or cotemporaries. 

Caligula, Emperor of Rome, con- 
ferred the honour of priesthood upon his horse. 

Darius the First, King of Persia, boasts, 
in his epitaph, of having been a great drinker. 
He says, I could both drink a great deal of 
wkte jand carry it well. 

Crellius, a famous Socinian, published 
a , system of morals, wherein he maintains* 
that a man may lawfully teat his wife. This 
reminds us of our modern judicial Crellius* 
who defended the right of a man to beat 
his wife with a ftick^ provided it was. not' 
thicker than his, thumb. 

Sir William Tejviple says, that the 
abilities of man must fall short on one side 
or the other ; like too scanty a blanket whent^ 
you are on your bed : if you pull it on your. 



186 

shoulders, you leave your feet bare ; and if 
you place it on your feet your shoulders are 
uncovered. 



Friend is an appellation given and received 
by many that have little or no claim to the 
character. How much it must appear abused, 
when the highwayman comes to your coach- 
door, and salutes you, you thus address him 
witli — Pray, friend, take away the pistol, and 
don't alarm the ladies; which is a title we 
give to women of all sorts : the Lamp-lighter, 
the Shoe-black, and the Porter on a Sunday 
with their wives a mile out of town. 

" Vont touch any wittles 'till the Ladies 
4Jre helpt." 

For every woman, on a Sunday at least, 
considers herself a Lady; and you cannot 
affront her more grossly than to withhold 
from her that distinguished title. Having 
studied the vocabulary of affectation, she 
imagines it pdlite to say — 

u Mem, purdigious, exquisite, quiie the bung 



187 

tung" — and many other words equally welt 
pronounced, and as well applied. 

The youth, who carries out parcels in the 
forenoon, begins to think, ere evening, that 
he really is a gentleman. He calls every 
mop-squeezer a Lady, believes himself a man 
of fashion, and, to support his opinion, 
plumps himself into a sedan, and orders it to 
Lovejoy's. This causes the dissipation of the 
subordinate departments of life, and its at- 
tendant consequences: Miss, beating hemp 
in Bridewell, fancies herself a Countess in 
distress ; and the youth, in a cart, is conscious 
of his having the air of a Lord. 



Shakespeare says, " Let your clowns 
speak no more than what is set down for 
them : for there will be some of them that 
will laugh themselves, to set on a number of 
barren spectators to do the same, though there 
be some necessary part of the play to be then 
observed." 

But I have known Actors, who, although 



188 

they Were desirous of expressing their author, 
have yet committed inadvertently an error. 
The following anecdote is an example : 

A Veteran in the York Company was play- 
ing the part of Don Pedro, in the Spanish 
Friar. It being in the race week, the stage 
happened to be crouded by such as could not 
get places before the curtain. 

This Veteran, as Don Pedro, being asked 
the question of what hopes? His answer 
should have been — 

" As much as when physicians shake their heads, 
And bid their dying patients think of Heaven." 

But, unfortunately, one of the Jockies, who 
was among the croud upon the stage, stuck, 
either by design or accident, the rowel of his 
spur in his back, just as he had got to the 
last line. His answer therefore to the ques- 
tion of what hopes ? was literally — " As 
much as when physicians shake their heads, 

and bid their dying patients- -Go to hell, 

ahdbedamn'd!" 

As John Dryden's Pegasus was not to be 



189 

pushed forward by a Yorkshire jockey, this 
was certainly spurring the actor in the wrong 
place. 



But of all the Tragedians that ever trage- 
dized, he was the most outre in his own per- 
formance, whose satire made him the dread 
of every other theatrical performer, I mean 
our late English Aristophanes, Mr* Foote. 
He was a great favourite with the town, and, 
as a comic writer and a mimic, a most de- 
served one. But acting is to be considered 
on principles much more extensive. 

His performance of Othello was such a 
master-piece of burlesque, that it has never 
yet been forgotten by those who saw it. But 
however extravagantly outre this may have 
been, it could never equal the burlesque he 
displayed in Hamlet, which he performed for 
his own benefit at Bath. 

When he came to the quarrel in the last 
act with Laertes where the following lines 
occur : 



190 

*' What is the reason that you use me thus ? 

I lov'd thee ever — but 'tis no matter. 

Let Hercules himself do what he may, 

The Cat will mew— the dog will have his day. v> 

Instead of this, he said, in his usual way, 

[Imitating Foote. 

M What is the reason that you use me 
thus ? — I lov'd thee ever. But 'tis no matter 
■ — let Hercules himself do what he may— the 
dog will mew — No, no ! that's wrong — the cat 
will bark — Oh no! — -that's the dog— the dog 
will mew — No — that's the cat — the cat will — 
No !- — that's the dog again— the cat — the dog 
-—the dog — the cat — Pshaw — Pish — Pox — 'tis 
something about barking, mewing, and cater- 
walling, but, as I hope to be saved, Ladies 
and Gentlemen, I know nothing more about 
the matter*" 



It has been customary to teach young per- 
formers to throw it out, keep it up, go through 
with it, and use their arms and legs— so as 



m 

not to stand like a tragedy tea-pot, with one 
hand stuck by his side, like the hand, and the 
other stretched out in this manner, like the 
spout. So that the actor is always in motion, 
and appears as if he had St. Vitus's dance. 



Mr. Mossop, the once celebrated tragedian, 
was distinguished among the ways of the 
Green Room, by the appellation of the one- 
handed actor. 

Mr. Churchill says in his Rosciad, that 
his right hand was always labouring away, 
while his left was totally supine. 

But this defective habit was completely 
cured by Mr. Garrick telling him the fol T 
lowing story of a one-handed actor, who had 
a wooden arm. Disdaining that one hand 
should have all the labour, he would strike 
the wooden one with the other, so as to set it 
on a full swing like the pendulum of a clock, 
In this manner— 



192 

*' I own the glorious subject fires my breast, 
And my soul's darling passion stands confest. 

{Bang goes Clumpey, 
Beyond myself or virtue's sacred band- 
Beyond my life I prize my native land 5 

{Bang. 
Think England's peace bought cheaply with my 

blood, 
And die with pleasure for my country's good." 

Bang, bang, and so swing swang, dingle 
dangle, went the wooden limb, while the poor 
Actor was as proud of it as he was of his living 
ones. 



Although performers neglecting the study 
of their profession deserve reprehension, yet 
I must exempt such from censure as have 
been neglectful from their endeavours proving 
unsuccessful. In this situation was the late 
facetious George Alexander Stevens, at Lynn, 
in Norfolk. Having played there several 
nights to empty benches, he neglected to 



193 

study the part of Lorenzo, in the Merchant 
of Venice, which he had to perform before 
the company left the town. He, however, 
bustled through it tolerably well until he came 
to the last act, where he should have said 
to Jessica— 

" In such a night as this, Leander swam 
the Hellespont, and brav'd the w r inds and 
waves for Hero's sake," Sec. &c. 

Instead of which he began thus — 

" Oh Jessica ! in such a night as this the 
— man — swam over the water- — and he div'd 
and he duck'd — and he duck'd and he div'd 
— 'till he got to the other side — and — there, 
you know, he met with his — his sweetheart — 
and there Jessica, you know, they met each 
other. 

This was intolerable ! The audience * per- 
ceiving the cause, expressed their disapproba- 
tion by a general hiss from every part of the 
theatre. 

Stevens, greatly irritated by this, re- 
solved to quit the town — as he termed it, in 
a blaze, He took, therefore, Jessica by th? 



m 

hand, and — leading her forward, addressed 
the audience thus — ^ 

" O Jessica, in such a night as this we came to town, 
And since that night we've touchMbut half a crown, 
Let you and I then bid these folks good night, 
For if we longer stay? they'll starve us quite. 

Damn me." 



FINIS. 



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